


face my demons, i won't hide

by PsychoLimbo



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Spirits, Danny Sees Dead People And Other Weird Shit, Danny actually fuckin dies but like he gets better, Gen, Illustrations, Kind of inspired by Paranorman, also warning for Lots Of Bad Words because have you ever met a 14-15 year old?, and then hes fine, danny is trans, he only dies for like 2 days?, horror warning i guess??, its like regular DP but a fair bit darker, like nobody dies but death is a darker topic and this au is very very tied to death, they say 'fuck' like its a new kind of punctuation, they're like 15 in this au, well not 'fine' but hes alive and thats what counts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2020-05-13 10:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 69,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19249639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PsychoLimbo/pseuds/PsychoLimbo
Summary: Danny Fenton considers himself painfully average.His grades, his popularity in school, his number of Twitter followers, all of it absolutely screams ‘average’. It’s not a bad thing, per se, but it’s probably why it’s never crossed his mind that anything extraordinary could possibly happen to him, ever.In which Danny finds out that the paranormal is, in fact, An Actual Thing, and takes it upon himself to help the dead and protect the living.Well, does he really have a choice?





	1. portal

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title is from the song Hide by Juice WRLD and Seezyn because I still can't get over Spiderverse. And I probably never will.
> 
> Thank u to my friend Sparks, who has helped me flesh this bitch out and helped me Write Gud asdfhhkDGF

Danny Fenton considers himself painfully average.

His grades, his popularity in school, his number of Twitter followers, all of it absolutely screams ‘average’. It’s not a  _ bad _ thing, per se, but it’s probably why it’s never crossed his mind that anything extraordinary could possibly happen to him, ever. Sure, his parents leave their weird ‘ghost hunting’ stuff lying around and Danny’s accidentally stubbed his toes, cut himself, or received a small shock from something, but he’s never been one to believe in things he can’t see. Hell, he even hates the very concept of Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. 

He’s not even sure what makes him the prime target for his school’s most notorious bully, Dash Baxter. When he figures out what it is, though, he’s definitely getting rid of it. Highschool is painful enough already without the added pressure of trying to avoid getting the snot beaten out of him every day.

Speaking of which, he’s currently stuffed himself into a tight crevice under the football field’s bleachers, trying to catch his breath and peering through the slats between the seats for any sign of his attacker. Sweat rolls down his face and back, making him feel gross and cold, but he doesn’t dare move an inch. Dash seems to have some kind of sixth sense that lets him immediately hone in on panicking teenagers trying to avoid a black eye. 

He sits there in silence for god-knows-how long, only daring to move when his muscles hurt too much to stay hidden and his phone vibrates in his pocket, probably because his mom sent him a text asking where he is and why he’s taking so long to get home. Even then, though, he keeps low to the ground, crawling through the wet grass and letting his eyes dart everywhere in search of Dash. 

He hears footsteps on the gravel path stretching from the school’s westernmost doors to the football field and immediately shoves himself back into the shadows with a quiet curse. The steps grow louder, like Danny’s thrumming heart, and then....

“Danny? It’s all clear. The gorilla’s gone.” 

Danny flinches at the voice, then lets out a shaky exhale and crawls out from under the bleachers. When he finally rises to his feet and dusts the grass and dirt from his jeans, he feels warm relief spread from his chest through the rest of him. 

His closest-- and only-- friends, Sam and Tucker, stand there with sympathetic smiles on their faces. Danny wipes the sweat from his brow.

“You’re sure he’s gone?”

Tucker nods. “Yep!”

“Apparently, he got an anonymous tip that Paulina’s gonna be hanging out at the theatre and he doesn’t wanna pass up a chance to hit on her.” Sam adds with a suspicious wink.

“I’m gonna take a wild guess here and say you were the so-called ‘anonymous’ person who tipped him off,” Danny replies, laughing softly.

Sam gives him a mock look of horror, pressing a hand to her chest and exclaiming, “How  _ dare _ you accuse me of something like that! I would  _ never--” _

“Oh, come on,” Tucker groans, “It was you, don’t be so dramatic.”

Sam jokingly punches Tucker in the shoulder, making him yelp in alarm and spring away. He rubs at his shoulder with a narrow-eyed look at Sam, but as he opens his mouth to complain or shoot back a retort, Sam jabs a thumb over her shoulder. “Anyways, let’s get the hell outta here before we run into any more of the knuckleheads.”

“I’m good with that,” Danny mutters, swinging his backpack over one shoulder and following Sam as she turns and leads the way down the path. Tucker jogs to catch up, and once they reach the sidewalk, the three of them settle into their usual walking pattern, side-by-side. 

The walk to the Fenton house takes about 30 minutes, which makes it the closest of their houses to Casper High. So it goes without saying that the Fenton house, despite all its weirdness, is the one they hang out at most often. Well, ‘weird’ is the understatement of the year. 

The massive metal ops center balanced precariously on the roof, the neon signs screaming ‘Fentonworks’ to the entire city, and the red brick walls that so starkly contrast the rest of the cookie-cutter houses in their neighbourhood… actually, Danny thinks he’s found the reason why Dash singles him out. Even though Danny has absolutely  _ no _ interest in his parents’ crazed obsession with the paranormal, it’s probably affected his reputation by proxy. That would explain Dash’s relentless torment.

Pushing the door open, Danny shouts a quick ‘ _ I’m home’ _ to which he receives no response, then shuts the door behind Sam and Tucker and kicks his shoes off. They do the same, and move to head upstairs… when Sam pauses.

“Hey, Danny,” she calls as he gets halfway up the stairs, “didn’t you say your parents finished their ‘spirit portal’ today or something?”

Danny stops, glancing down at her over the railing. “Yeah. Why?”

“You’ve  _ got _ to show us!” Tucker interrupts before Sam can respond, racing back down the stairs. 

With a reluctant groan, Danny drags a hand down his face. When neither of his friends respond to his obvious distaste, he throws his arms in the air and comes back down. “God,  _ fine.  _ It’s stupid and not gonna work, just like everything else of theirs, but whatever. I guess we can look.”

* * *

The Fenton family’s lab is situated in what was once a basement, Danny’s pretty sure. Well, he’s never seen the basement as anything else other than a lab and neither has Jazz, but it had to have been something else at some point. Before the crazy couple moved in.

Now, the lab-- pristinely clean, much cleaner than normal-- is a sterile, cold, damp pit with metal walls and lined by counters and cabinets overflowing with weird science-y stuff and weird drawings taped to the walls  _ everywhere. _ It certainly doesn’t help his parents look any less crazy, that’s for sure.

But Sam and Tucker have seen all this before. They’re not here for  _ that _ . 

They’re here for the steel doors built into one wall, surrounded by more strange drawings on slowly-aging paper, and marked with some sort of celtic-looking symbol that Danny’s seen far too often in his parents’ notes. This, supposedly, is his parents’ greatest creation: a gateway to the Spirit Realm. Which, obviously,  _ doesn’t exist. _

Danny leans against the farthest wall, arms crossed and expression slumped into one of boredom as Sam and Tucker inspect the gateway with interest. Tucker snaps a few photos on his cellphone, and Sam backs up to take a picture using her Polaroid. Just before she clicks the shutter, Tucker makes a face and strikes a stupid pose, which makes Sam groan in exasperation as the photo slides out of the camera. 

“You couldn’t act just a  _ little  _ more serious?” Sam sighs.

As she lifts up the photo to look at it, Tucker lets out a laugh. “Nope!”

“Okay, you guys got to see it. Can we go do something else?” Danny groans from his place at the opposite end of the room.

At his snide comment, Sam and Tucker exchange a glance before looking back at Danny with matching shit-eating grins. Danny furrows his brow. “What?”

“Could it be-”

“Oh man-”

They speak at the same time, but their words only match up when they both cackle, “You’re  _ scared _ , aren’t you?!”

As cheeky laughter echoes around the lab, Danny stands upright and snaps, “I am  _ not!” _

“Are too!” Tucker retorts between bursts of laughter. 

The mockery coupled with his frustration at Dash and his parents must have flipped a switch in Danny’s head, because he strides across the room with a scowl. As he stops in front of the Gate, Danny lets out an irritated breath and says, “Fine, I’ll prove it.”

“Oh,  _ damn, _ are you going inside?” Tucker asks incredulously.

Danny glances back over his shoulder with a smirk. “Hell yeah I am.”

“It’s safe?” Sam asks, and Danny lets out a snort.

“None of my parents’ crap  _ ever _ works. Nothing’s gonna happen.”

“Famous last words.” Tucker laughs lightly, elbowing Sam in the side, “Get a picture of him when he goes in! It’s gonna look  _ so cool.” _

“What, me standing in an empty pit?” Danny sighs as he pulls the metal lever to the right of the Gate and the doors slide open with the hissing sound of pneumatics. “Yeah. It’s gonna be absolutely amazing.”

On the other side of the doors is, as Danny expected, a metal tube of sorts, lined with exposed wires, shimmering with what looks like hundreds of crystals--  _ don’t mom and dad use those in their stupid rituals?--  _ and humming quietly. Some of the papers that had been taped to the door are knocked off as the doors open and are sent fluttering all throughout the room like dead leaves. After taking a moment to stare at the inside of the Gate, Danny turns around and gestures to it. “See? Not. Scared.”

“Betcha won’t go inside.” Sam says in a teasing tone.

“Betcha I  _ will.”  _ Danny sighs, turning back around and looking once again at the inside of the Gate.

_ You know… maybe this is a stupid idea. _

He bites his lip.

_ Oh, screw it. Nothing ever works, anyways. _

As soon as he steps inside the Gate, a strange chill passes over Danny’s body, running through his veins like liquid nitrogen, freezing everything it touches and sending whirlwinds of ice shooting into his skull. With a wince, he backs out.

Tucker barks out a laugh. “Ha! You’re scared!”

“N-no, I just… felt something,” Danny mumbles, still distracted by the cold trapped under his skin and eating into his bones. 

“Like what?” Sam asks, semi-seriously.

Before Danny has the chance to reply, a keening noise erupts from within the Gate, making all three of them slap their hands over their ears. The crystals lining the walls of the portal light up with an ethereal blue light for a heartbeat, then the entire inside of the Gate seems to simply disappear, becoming nothing but empty, black space on the other side. Danny takes another step back, but apparently it’s not enough. 

Some sort of inhuman wail sounds from within the Gate, like countless tormented souls all screaming their agony at once, hoping to escape their fate. There’s a sound like a heavy foot slamming down on the floor of the lab, but there’s nothing to suggest that there  _ is _ actually something there. No shadow, no claw marks, nothing.

Danny opens his mouth, ready to suggest that  _ maybe _ they’ve fucked up big time and it would be a swell idea to close the Gate, but something slams into his chest, knocking all the air from his body and stealing away his voice. He’s yanked off his feet by whatever’s hit him in the chest, then thrown aside like a ragdoll, where he lies on the floor, unable to move. 

_ I can’t breathe. _

Danny feels his vision growing dark.

_ I can’t move. _

Sam and Tucker shout indistinctly.

_ Am I dying…? _

The Gate slams shut as though someone hit the lever.

_ What a stupid way to die. _

He sinks into endless night.

* * *

**“ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - “**

_ Danny wakes up, his tired eyes sliding open despite the overwhelming urge to close them and fall back asleep. He forces himself to sit up and take in his surroundings like a normal human being, and his heart stops beating when he realizes that he’s not at all where he’d expected to be.  _

_ No, rather than waking up in his familiar bedroom with all its space-themed posters and comforting charm, he’s sitting on seemingly thin air, surrounded by endless blackness shimmering with multicolored iridescence like spilled oil in a street gutter. His depth perception is skewed--  _ is that wall right in front of me or miles away?--  _ but his confusion is quickly swept away when previous events flood back into his mind. _

_ He’s dead.  _

_ He’s  _ **_dead._ **

_ With a shuddering breath, he reaches up to run his ice-cold fingers through his hair. He scrunches his eyes shut, trying with all his willpower to wake up from this nightmare… but no matter how hard he tries, he’s stuck here, in this infinite purgatory, with nobody here to greet him or keep him company.  _

_ Or so he thought. _

_ Before his eyes, the blackness in front of him twists, reshapes, changes colour, and glows until some sort of weird creature is standing in front of him, watching him with eyes like fiery green glass.  _

_ Danny would almost say it’s a dog, but it towers above him like his parents’ RV, and some things don’t quite match up with your average dog. Like how despite its thick white coat and canine head, foot-long fangs protrude from its mouth, it has two sets of large ears, and ghastly green flames flicker from its solid green eyes. Its birdlike legs are jet black with two toes on each foot, and a thick, white mane runs down its spine from between its ears to its short and wispy tail. _

_ In short, it’s like nothing Danny’s ever seen.  _

**_“- - - - - - - “_**

**__ **

_ A garbled voice echoes in Danny’s head, and he can’t help flinching at it. The creature tilts its head ever-so-slightly at the reaction, then the voice comes again.  _

**_“Human boy.”_ **

_ “Y-yes--?” Danny begins, but the voice interrupts. _

**_“I am Ayla. I am what your kind know as a spirit.”_ **

_ “So… spirits are real…?” _

**_“Obviously. Otherwise, how would I be standing here before you?”_ **

_ Danny swallows hard. “Am I… am I dead?” _

**_“You are indeed dead,”_ ** _ the creature explains with a flick of its short tail.  _ **_“You foolishly stepped inside an active Gateway and allowed a malicious entity to enter your realm. I managed to overshadow one of your friends long enough to shut the door, but the spirit had already hit you so hard, your lungs ruptured, your heart burst, and your organs essentially--”_ **

_ “Okay, I get it. I… don’t wanna hear about how… how badly my guts were messed up.” _

**_“Insolent child,”_ ** _ Ayla snaps in his head, baring her teeth,  _ **_“you dare interrupt a being of my caliber? I could destroy your essence in an instant, eradicating your very existence itself.”_ **

_ A shudder runs through Danny’s body, and he drops his gaze in fear.  _

_ Ayla snorts.  _ **_“I jest. I am no such brute. Speak if you wish.”_ **

_ Despite her reassurance, it takes Danny a few seconds to find his voice again. When he does, he asks in a tiny voice, “So, um… what is this place?” _

**_“A pocket realm between the human realm and the Spirit Realm. I caught your essence and tied it here so I could speak with you. It was difficult work, but at least you will not stay dead now.”_ **

_ “What do you mean by that?” _

**_“My essence is fading. I have been around since before the dawn of humanity, and my time has grown boring. I have about one more human lifetime left in me, and I would like to do something worthwhile if I am going to fade away anyways,”_ ** _ Ayla explains, drawing slowly nearer.  _ **_“So, I will give up my independence as a spirit and fuse with your essence. If I do, you will gain my abilities as a spirit, including my healing, and make a full recovery. If you decline, you will still live, but your body will be too badly damaged to recover. You will live out your days in a comatose state. The choice is yours, child.”_ **

_ “I... “ Danny swallows hard again. “...I...I don’t know. I don’t want to die.” _

**_“Your time runs short. Make a choice.”_ **

_ His consciousness swims and he wobbles, which makes a spear of panic lance through him, sharp and cold. “I accept! Just don’t let me die--!” _

_ Before he can finish, Ayla dips her head and speaks in that garbled language once again. _

**_“ -----*---***-***- “_ **

_ All the energy seeps from Danny’s body as though some unearthly force sucked the very life from his flesh and bones, and he feels the vaguest falling sensation moments before-- _

_ - _

_ - _

_ - _

He wakes up.


	2. not the prettiest superpower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a ton of fun making this!! And I'm glad you guys are liking it so far!! :D

It’s been exactly one week since Danny had woken up in a hospital bed, feeling his insides slowly reforming, with a tube down his throat and an oxygen mask secured over his face. One week since his weird dream about a creature called Ayla. One week since he was pronounced dead upon arrival at the hospital, but miraculously recovered from supposedly fatal injuries.

He’s been home for three days, and he’d _like_ to say that everything’s gone back to normal.

Things, however, have been anything _but_.

Since waking up in the hospital, he’s been seeing things. Apparitions made of light and shadow, strange creatures darting around at the edges of his vision… there was also the unnerving feeling of being watched all the time, and above all, the way he sometimes sees things change shape. Like a vending machine shimmering and becoming a humming portal of inky blackness just long enough for some strange creature to slink in or out. Danny initially thought it was some weird side effect of the oxycodone he’d had to take, but after a few minutes of research, it turns out that oxycodone doesn’t cause hallucinations. Not to mention, he hasn’t needed the pain meds since the day after he woke up.

In short, Danny’s nerves are absolutely shot and he’s not sure what the hell he’s supposed to do.

As he sits against his bedroom wall, right under the window with the hood of his sweater pulled up and his knees drawn to his chest, he pointedly ignores the eerie white glow drifting lazily about. He bites at the inside of his lip until he tastes copper, forcing himself to keep his eyes trained on the screen of his phone.

His avoidance tactic seems to have worked for the past three hours he’s been sitting here, but eventually, the strange glow drifts closer. Danny feels a shudder run through his body and his momentary distraction earns him a swift ‘GAME OVER’ screen. But even then, he doesn’t look up. He starts a new game.

**What are you playing?**

The voice invades his head, forcing its way to the forefront of his consciousness and resonating in his skull like a ping-pong ball. Danny winces, pursing his lips and trying to regulate his breathing as he keeps ignoring the apparition.

**You’re still afraid, aren’t you?**

Danny tries to ignore it, but the apparition drifts close enough for an icy chill to blow over Danny’s skin. A shiver runs through his body, from fear or from the cold, he’s not sure. Whatever it is, he’s hoping that if he ignores it long enough, it’ll go away.

The apparition moves, then floats lower to hover closely to Danny’s right side, as though it’s trying to sit beside him and watch him play his game.

**I shouldn’t have followed you from the hospital, but I never imagined a human would ever be able to properly see me again. I’ve been dead for a while, that’s for certain. Death sure is lonely.**

Danny’s character loses their last life, and the Game Over screen taunts him again.

**I assumed that because I believed in God, death would mean peace. And it is peaceful, in a way.**

Danny starts a new round.

**But it’s depressing to wander around without being able to do anything.**

Danny loses a life.

**Games sure have come a long way since I was alive. Phones, too. I never imagined phones would have such neat touchscreens.**

GAME OVER.

For all his attempts to ignore the apparition, its shy, lonely chatter and the morose air it gives off seems to hit Danny right in the chest. He almost slams his head back against the wall in another pointless attempt to knock the crazy out of his brain, but catches himself with a deep breath through his nose. After listening for the telltale sounds of his parents long enough to determine that he’s the only one home, Danny swallows and starts a new game.

“Phones break a lot easier, and they’re a lot more expensive,” he says in a voice still hoarse from disuse.

The sad aura-- for lack of a better word-- that the apparition gives off almost immediately flares bright and warm like a sunbeam, sending a strange, unfamiliar sense of contentment and joy shooting through Danny’s skin and straight into his bones. He knows the feeling certainly isn’t his own, but he can’t help the way his tense muscles and clenched jaw loosen a bit.

**Golly, you’re talking to me! I’m so glad!!**

“Nobody’s home to be all ‘Danny, who are you talking to?’ or ‘Danny, what are you looking at, there’s nothing there’, so as long as you don’t… I don’t know, what do you do? Possess people? I can talk to you for a bit.” Danny says in a tiny, rather pathetic voice.

As he clears his throat, the apparition lets out a grating sound that’s probably meant to be laughter.

**No, no, ghosts don’t possess people. We cause some weird stuff to happen when we’re bored, but the malicious stuff is done by spirits. I’m not gonna possess you.**

“Oh, thank God for that.”

**I mean thank him if you want to, but judging by my own experience with death, I’m not sure if the guy cares enough to interfere.**

The absurdity of the response, coupled with the infectious euphoria the apparition-- _wait, no, it called itself a ghost_ \-- gives off in warm, soothing waves makes a quiet bark of laughter creep unbidden from his throat. Despite the fact that he still isn’t quite ready to accept that this might be his new normal, Danny risks his sanity and looks at the ghost directly for the first time since he first encountered it one night in the hospital.

It looks surprisingly similar to the shitty CGI ghosts that you see in paranormal documentaries, but more refined and...gentle, in a way. Where the CGI is often shown as terrifying, empty-eyed husks of human souls, the real thing is in the shape of a glowing white human, its edges rippling slightly despite the lack of a breeze. Its eyes are solid white, but glimmer like polished opals, and a cheery smile creeps across its pale face.

This ghost looks like a young man in a flowing white hospital gown, with a nasal cannula winding from his nostrils around his ears and disappearing down the back of the gown. If he were alive, Danny would guess he’s in his early twenties.

**You looked at me! You really can see me!**

“Hey, I thought I was pretty obvious with my whole ‘maybe if I pretend it’s not there, it’ll go away’ tactic,” Danny quips wryly, finding it strangely easy to talk to the ghost despite the last dregs of nervousness that plague his mind.

**That tactic doesn’t work, kid. Trust me, I tried it with cancer, and look at me now.**

The blunt admittance makes Danny flinch violently enough that his phone falls from his hands and clatters to the floor. The ghost reaches for the phone, but his hands phase right through it and he heaves an impression of a sigh.

**Sorry, I suppose that was a little dark. I forget that not everyone enjoys dark humor.**

With a sigh, Danny retrieves his phone and checks the screen for cracks. “Jeez, you really _are_ out of touch. Have you _heard_ of Gen Z humor?”

The ghost cocks an eyebrow. **Gen Z?**

“Kids my age. Dark humor, nonsensical memes, that kinda thing.”

A look of uncertainty crosses his face.

**M… memes?**

“Not important,” Danny says quickly with a wave of a hand before starting a new game. “Bottom line is that dark humor is 110% fine around people my age.”

As Danny gets close to beating his high score, the ghost still giving off that bright, peaceful energy, his phone buzzes and a notification drops down from the top of the screen. His fingers sweep over the pause button, then tap on the notification from his group chat with Sam and Tucker.

_Sam (12:20): _

_Hey Danny, how you doing?_

**Is that your friend?**

“Yeah,” Danny says as he tries to think of an acceptable response.

**Why haven’t you visited them? Or gone outside? You certainly can, you know.**

He swallows hard.

_Danny (12:22): _

_I’m okayish. Still seeing weird things._

_Tucker (12:22): _

_lmao are u hallucinating paulina_

**Who’s Paulina?**

“Nobody important,” Danny grits out as he aggressively shoots back a reply. “Just a girl.”

_Danny (12:23): _

_NO I AM NOT._

_Sam (12:23): _

_dear god I hope not. I already cant stand seeing her at school, I can’t imagine being forced to look at her 24/7_

**A classmate?**

_Tucker (12:24): _

_ahgscdjs do u remember when he spilled his bank account password and it was PaulinaFenton25? fuckin priceless_

_Sam (12:24): _

_Thank you, tucker, for once again bringing that repressed memory to the forefront of my brain._

_Tucker (12:25): _

_No problem, that’ll be 25 bucks_

_Danny (12:26): _

_Okay, can we drop it already? I’m already losing my mind enough without you guys bringing my stupid middle school memories back to haunt me._

**Your friends are pretty funny, I have to say. It’s a shame I can’t talk to them. Oh, did you tell them about me?**

With an exasperated sigh, Danny drags a hand through his greasy hair-- he’d been too paranoid to shower while he had some ghost watching him all the time-- and replies, “Yes. No. I don’t know, they’re pretty sure I’m just freaking out. Even though they _saw_ what happened in the basement. Hell, if that whole ‘Ayla’ thing wasn’t just some coma-induced dream, then one of them even got overshadowed by something paranormal!” He takes a moment to calm his mind. “I just don’t want them to think I’ve gone nuts.”

**That’s understandable,** the ghost says thoughtfully, **but they seem to care about you, so maybe you should let them know that you can see things you shouldn’t be able to see.**

“Okay, fine, but _how_ am I going to prove to them that it’s actually real and I’m _not crazy?!”_

Despite his obvious anger, the ghost lets out that strange, rattling chuckle again and watches him with a smile.

**Leave that to me.**

* * *

 

Leaving the house is something Danny’s been reluctant to do ever since the drive home from the hospital, but not because he’s tired or sore or traumatized, as his parents and sister seem to think. Well, he knows Jazz thinks this because she’s tried to talk to him and Danny royally screwed that up by yelling at some paranormal thing he’d detected in the room. Mom and Dad… well, they’ve been too busy dealing with the destroyed lab to check in on him.

He refused to leave the house because of all...  _this_ crap that's been happening.

He shakes his head and pulls his hood down lower over his head despite the sun beating down on the sidewalk and making him sweat like mad. Beside him, the ghost drifts lazily and chatters nonsensically as a sort of distraction.

Yet even with the ghost making an effort to keep him calm and focused, Danny can’t help but _feel_ dozens of eyes burning into him like a campfire spark dancing across his skin. Weird _pressure_ on his body and mind when something tries to figure out what he is. Hell, _Danny’s_ not even really sure what he is anymore.

Regardless, he keeps his eyes trained on the sidewalk in front of him and tries not to think about the countless _things_ drifting past him, ogling him, whispering in his head, _what are you? Who are you? Who is he?_ **_What is he?_ **

Danny purses his lips and tries to hold down his flip-flopping stomach as he crosses the last road before Sam’s house, where she and Tucker apparently are.

**Will your friends be okay with you coming along without asking?**

“Yeah, it’s kind of… a Thing, I guess? Where we just turn up at each other’s houses uninvited. I dunno, Sam and Tucker’s families think my parents are… eccentric or something. They don’t like my parents, but they’re fine with me.” he lets out a weak attempt at laughter as another creature brushes past his consciousness. “Maybe they think they can prevent me from turning out as crazy as my folks are. But I am _waaay_ too far gone now.”

**What do you mean by that?**

At the withering look Danny shoots him, the ghost laughs again, this time with a tinge of awkwardness.

**Sorry kid, dumb question.**

Danny kind of wants to shoot back a snarky reply, but chooses not to and lets out a long, slow breath instead as he walks up the steps to knock on the elaborately-carved wooden door at the front of the Manson house. After a few moments, there’s the sound of someone shouting ‘ _coming!!’_ from inside and heavy footsteps racing closer. Before Danny can force his face into something vaguely resembling a smile, the door creaks open, revealing Sam in a baggy black sweater with an Ouija board planchette printed across the chest, and dark grey sweatpants. Her black hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, and she doesn’t have makeup on, which means it’s probably a cold day in hell.

After blinking at him owlishly for a few seconds, Sam’s eyes light up and she catches him in a headlock, dragging him forward and aggressively giving him a noogie. “ _Jeez,_ I thought you’d never get out of that house!! Welcome back to the land of the liv-- oh, _gross,_ your hair’s greasier than the Nasty Burger grills.”

Her face scrunches up in disgust and she wipes her hand on her pants, which actually makes a smile creep across Danny’s face. This seems to comfort his friend when she looks up, and she returns the smile with one of her own. “You look like hell.”

“Thanks, I feel like it, too.” Danny snorts as the tightly wound nerves of the past few days gradually work themselves out and melt away.

As Sam closes the door, Danny lets his gaze flick to the side, briefly watching as the ghost passes through the door as though it’s not even there. Sam doesn’t notice his brief side-eye, which is good. Maybe. He doesn’t really know. He just wants to get this whole ‘I see dead people’ crap off his chest in a way that his friends will believe.

_God, this had better work._

From there, Danny kicks off his shoes and follows Sam through the impressive halls of the Manson house, winding down a route so familiar, Danny doesn’t even really need to think about it at all. They reach the broad staircase leading down to the basement without issue, but as soon as Danny takes a step down the stairs, a familiar and unwelcome chill lances through his body, making him gasp in alarm as a burning cold presses into his bones. Sam cocks an eyebrow at him. “You okay, Danny? If you’re still sore, we can call Tucker up and hang out on the main floor instead.”

“N-no, no, I just-” Danny clears his throat to level his shaking voice, “-it’s nothing.”

An old man’s voice hisses in his head and he tries to ignore the way it jabs at his brain like a child poking some dead creature on the sidewalk with a stick.

**_WHAT ARE YOU._ **

**_WHY ARE YOU IN MY DOMAIN._ **

“You’re flinching a lot, dude.”

“I am?” Danny replies as he forces a smile that he hopes looks somewhat convincing, “I dunno why, I’m not in pain at all.”

Sam gives him a funny look-- _God damn it Fenton, that was supposed to be convincing--_ but just rolls her eyes and waves a hand dismissively. “Fine, but if you end up overworking yourself or whatever, I’m _not_ helping you back up the stairs. Tuck can do that.”

“I’m not _overworking_ myself, I just-” something scratches the skin at the back of his neck painfully, making him jump with a yelp and slap a hand over the affected spot, “-okay, fine. Yeah, I came here because, um… “ he can hear his ‘friendly ghost’ struggling with some angry, hissing creature behind them, “... I guess I’ve had a lot of weird stuff going on. Paranormal stuff.”

Sam snorts. “ _This_ is gonna be good.”

“I’m serious, Sam!” he snaps at the same moment two ghostly, disjointed voices rattle painfully in his head.

**_LEAVE MY DOMAIN. HALF-BREED. MONGREL. HYBRID. MISFIT. ABOMINATION._ **

**_Oh my GOD, old man!! The kid’s FINE!!_ **

Something in the way Danny snapped back at her must have been strange enough for her to realize he’s not playing around, because her eyes glimmer with something like understanding and her teasing smile fades into something more serious. As the ghosts’ heated struggle continues and the strange spirit continues hurling insults into Danny’s brain-- _NOT helping my self-esteem, dude--_ he keeps his eyes trained on the steps in front of him. Sam takes a breath.

“Yeah, you seem a bit… off.” she begins, reaching over to pull Danny’s hand away from the back of his neck and stopping short, “You’re bleeding.”

“What?” Danny brings his hand in front of him and sure enough, a red stain is smudged across his palm.

They reach the bottom of the stairs then, and Sam turns Danny around to inspect the cut. “When did this happen? It looks brand-new!”

He swallows hard. “Um. It… it happened when I jumped. Something… I guess something… clawed me.”

For a time, he avoids looking Sam in the eye. Even so, he can feel her watching him like he’s a puzzle she can’t figure out, like she’s weighing her options and his words and the evidence before her. Finally, she places a hand on his shoulder and Danny turns to meet her eyes.

She’s not smiling, but she’s not looking at him like he’s crazy. She… actually looks incredibly serious, and it’s strangely reassuring.

“You have some explaining to do when we get to the theatre room.”

Danny lets out an awkward laugh. “Y-yeah, I guess I do, huh?”

The rest of their walk is spent in silence-- well, except for the howling apparition that only he can hear-- but it’s not uncomfortable. In fact, Danny’s grateful for it. It gives him a chance to _try_ planning out what to say in the least ‘Crazy Fenton’ way possible.

Because if he does this badly and Tucker doesn’t believe him, _ohhh_ boy. He’s never going to hear the end of it.

They reach the door, and before Danny can completely steel himself for what’s ahead, Sam unceremoniously kicks the doors open and shouts, “ _HEY TUCK, GUESS WHO’S HERE!”_

Tucker lets out a cut-off shriek of alarm, whipping around fast enough to make himself wince. The grimace doesn’t last long, however, when he realizes that Danny’s standing in the doorway with an awkward smile on his face. He raises one hand in a halfhearted wave. “Hey, Tuck.”

Tucker moves with more athleticism than Danny’s _ever_ seen, vaulting clumsily over the couch and slamming into Danny to clasp him in a tight hug. “Oh my _God,_ man, you’re not dead!!”

Before he can think better of it, Danny barks out a laugh. “That’s debatable.”

Tucker stiffens suddenly, and Danny wonders if he’s gone too far with the joke, but instead, Tucker backs away and aggressively turns Danny around. “What happened to your neck??”

“ _That’s_ what he’s gonna explain to us.” Sam interjects, and a strange heaviness settles over the room.

With an awkward sigh, Danny rubs at his upper arms. “Yeah, uhh… it’s a weird, crazy, stupid story, but I don’t know who else will believe me.”

* * *

As Sam returns to the couch where the boys sit, a bowl of chips in her hands, she finds herself glancing worriedly at Danny again. He’s still flinching every few seconds, his neutral expression incredibly forced, and despite Tucker having bandaged up the slash on the back of his neck, Danny still rubs at it in intervals. Seeing this in her friend, who’s only ever jumpy or withdrawn around Dash, is jarring.

Not to mention, his eyes are ringed with deep purple bruises, and his gaze flicks briefly around the room every once in a while, fixating on something she can’t see. He’s also jiggling one leg up and down, a habit that she and Tucker have come to associate with his bouts of anxiety.

Shaking herself to clear her head of distracting thoughts, she skirts around the couch and places the bowl down on the table before planting herself across from Danny and tossing a chip in her mouth. “Okay. Spill it.”

Danny blinks absently as though he’d forgotten where he was. After a moment of confusion, his expression changes to recognition, and he heaves a sigh. “So… basically… “

He trails off and doesn’t say anything for a long time. So long, in fact, that Sam’s not entirely sure if Danny’s going to share anything at all. She’s just about to snap her fingers in front of his face to make sure he’s still with them, when he drops his face in his hands and mumbles something so muffled, she can’t make it out.

“Danny, you’re gonna have to say that again. With less hand in your mouth this time.” Tucker quips.

After taking another moment to drag his hands through his hair, Danny repeats himself.

“I’ve been seeing dead people since I woke up in the hospital.”

The silence that follows is stretched as tight as piano wire, ready to snap at the slightest touch of a blade. Time passes infinitely slow, but dizzyingly fast all at once, and Sam tries to count the minutes they remain like that. She uses her heartbeat as a gauge, but she still doesn’t know how much time passes.

Eventually, Tucker takes a deep breath. “I think the Fenton Crazy really has rubbed off on you, man. I’m sorry, but _dead people?”_

“I’m not _lying!”_ Danny snaps, but with less bite and more desperation than one would expect. “Ghosts are real. They’re _real,_ and they won’t _shut up!”_

“Danny, take a breath-” Sam begins, but Danny’s head snaps up and he glares at her.

“What will it take?”

“What?”

“What will it take to _get you two to believe me?!_ ”

Sam cocks an eyebrow. “I do believe you. I saw you get that cut out of thin air.”

“Wait, what?” Tucker asks incredulously, looking between Sam and Danny in surprise, “You’re kidding me, right? You guys are both crazy.”

“Tucker,” Danny says in a quiet voice, “I am currently listening to a ghost screaming at me in some eldritch-horror language and I am very close to losing my shit. Not on you, but I am _actually_ losing my mind.”

Tucker opens his mouth to say something in response, probably a snarky retort, but the lights and TV screen flicker for a solid five seconds before returning to normal. The door creaks open, then quickly slams shut. The bowl of chips shoots off the table and crashes to the floor, sending salt and vinegar shrapnel flying everywhere.

Neither Sam nor Tucker are speaking now. Danny is staring in shock at something in an empty corner of the room.

The silence lasts for almost a full minute before Danny slowly asks, “You… you guys saw that, right?”

“The stuff right out of _Paranormal Activity?_ Yeah, I saw it.” Tucker wheezes, lifting up his hat and wiping his sweat-soaked brow before replacing it crookedly.

“Was that a… a ghost?” Sam asks tentatively, and feels a thrill of both fear and excitement jolt through her from her head to her toes when her friend nods.

He slumps back into the couch, rubbing at his eyes in exasperation with a groan. “Yeah. It was a ghost.”

“I think I’m gonna pass out.” Tucker says, and Danny looks at him.

“The ghost is friendly. He’s just… what,” he glances back over at the empty corner of the room, “What? Was there a reason you needed to do that? I appreciate it, but the chips were an unnecessary mess.”

Silence. Then, Danny tilts his head back to look at the ceiling and mutters, “He says he wanted to help me convince you, so he chased off the other ghost and came by to pull off a poltergeist. I guess.”

With another horrified wheeze, Tucker says, “ _This is the nightmare scenario.”_

“Welcome to _my_ world” Danny laughs, moments before the lights flicker again and he levels a glare over the back of the couch. “ _Knock it off.”_

_This… is gonna be one hell of a thing to get used to._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me here!!
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> Thank you so much to [Aster](https://fingerspellingtopassthetime.tumblr.com/) for beta reading!! <3


	3. poltergeist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing and illustrating this chapter!! I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did, but this chapter isn't beta-read because none of my beta readers are available ; v ; So I'm sorry if there's errors or some janky-ish pacing!! I'll definitely update the chapter with an edited version when/if my beta readers can do it!
> 
> ***EDIT: It's been beta read by [Aster!!](https://fingerspellingtopassthetime.tumblr.com/)

It’s two in the morning at the Manson house, and Danny can’t sleep.

Tucker fell asleep first, crashing hard right at the stroke of midnight. Sam followed about an hour later, yawning a groggy ‘g’night’ before rolling over in her sleeping bag on the home theatre floor and sinking into sleep. 

Danny can’t help but envy them.

They don’t have to deal with the feeling of some ghost poking relentlessly at their consciousness, stabbing at their minds, and giving them throbbing migraines. They don’t know what it’s like to have to listen to a long-dead old man hissing insults and snarling within the walls as he drifts menacingly outside the room. 

If his friendly ghost hadn’t been here, he’s certain that the angry one would’ve torn him to ribbons hours ago. The thought isn’t super comforting, but one thing that does ease his anxiety just a tiny bit is the feeling of his friendly ghost’s aura gently poking at his own mind, filtering contentment into his soul and body. It’s nice, actually.

He tries once again to roll over and close his eyes.

As soon as he does, the angry ghost jabs his consciousness into his head painfully again, shrieking,  **_LEAVE. GET OUT. LEAVELEAVELEAVELEAVEMINEMINEMINEMINE_ **

Danny does his best to block it out. He sticks his fingers in his ears, shoves his head under his pillow, blasts music through his earbuds until his ears ring… none of it  _ works. _

At 2:35 in the morning, Danny tugs at his hair in irritation, then wriggles out of his own sleeping bag and rubs at his eyes. 

_ I guess I’ll have to deal with it myself. _

Friendly Ghost’s voice creeps tentatively into his mind, like a puppy approaching their human for the first time. 

**_Are you alright, Danny?_ **

“No, I’m not.” He sighs quietly so as not to wake Sam and Tucker. “Look. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I can’t live like this. How do I make the ghost go the hell  _ away?” _

The ghost turns to face him with wide, puzzled eyes, staring at him for a long time before reaching up to run a hand through his mistlike hair and replying,

**_I don’t know much, but I might be able to help you chase it off for a bit. Or something._ **

Danny rises to his feet and grabs his phone. “Well, that’s better than nothing. What do I do?”

**_Follow me._ **

Carefully stepping over the slumbering figures of his friends, he makes his way across the home theatre and pushes the doors open. As soon as he does, that icy feeling rockets through his blood and he doubles over with a shiver and a gasp. The ghost turns around, worry in his face.

**_What’s wrong?_ **

“N-nothing, it’s just…” He trails off as the air in the hall ahead of them shimmers and twists into the form of some other apparition.

Involuntarily, he hisses out a quiet, “ _ Fuck.” _

To Danny, the thing mostly looks like the skeletal, worm-eaten remains of a long-dead corpse, with a few strands of wispy hair sticking out of whatever rotten, green skin’s left on its skull. Hollow, black eyes and a gaping mouth pulse with black ichor, dripping on the floor but not staining the plush red carpets below. His stomach lurches, and Danny slaps a hand over his mouth as he feels all that junk food threatening to come back up. 

**_GET OUT._ **

**__ **

The ghost’s voice grates on Danny’s brain like nails on a chalkboard, screeching, chafing, burning,  _ biting-- _

“What did I do?!” Danny snaps before he can stop himself. “What’s your deal?!”

**_NOT HUMAN. NOT SPIRIT. HALFANDHALFANDHALFANDHALFGETOUTGETOUTOUTOUT_ **

**_Danny, it’s not worth the effort--_ **

“Give me  _ one _ reason why I should leave!” Danny shouts back as his mind screams at him to shut up.

He jumps almost a solid foot in the air as the door behind him creaks open. 

Danny whips around, fully expecting to see some other spectre… but ends up looking into the faces of a very groggy Sam and Tucker. 

“What’s going on?” Sam yawns.

Tucker rubs at his eyes. “If you’re gonna deal with ghosts or whatever, could you keep it down? I’ve gotta get at least 10 hours of beauty rest.”

**_LEAVE._ **

Biting back a hiss of pain, Danny wipes at his sweaty forehead and turns back around to face the angry ghost still watching them from down the hall. “I couldn’t sleep because  _ that _ was screaming in my head and giving me a migraine.”

“Danny, we can’t  _ see  _ whatever that is.” Sam grumbles and moves forward to stand beside him.

That action alone seems to spur the ghost into a blind rage, because all of a sudden, a blood-curdling wail explodes in his head and Danny lets out an involuntary cry of pain, curling into himself, staggering backwards, clutching at his head, his head is  _ splitting OPEN- _

“Whoa,  _ whoa,  _ Danny!” A voice exclaims, and he’s not sure if it’s Sam, Tucker, or his ghost friend.

**_LEAVELEAVELEAVELEAVE-_ **

“ _ SHUT UP!!” _ Danny can’t help but shout, glaring at the ghost with as much anger as he can manage through the haze of pain.

The friendly ghost launches forward at the angry one with a rattling hiss, fingers growing long and clawlike as his form distorts. For half a second, Danny sees his ghost’s form flicker and change into something more like a dead body, but it passes quickly. An immense feeling of  _ wrongness _ permeates the entire hall then, and the two ghosts crash into one another. 

_ “ _ Whoa, now  _ that _ was weird,” Tucker remarks, shaking his head and looking confused.

Through the pounding pain in his head, Danny replies, “Wait, what?”

“I don’t know, I got a bit dizzy and cold for a second--” he explains as the ghosts smash into a wall and the hall lights flicker wildly, “-there it is again!”

“I feel it too. Danny--” Sam begins, but the angry ghost suddenly wrenches free of its assailant and rockets down the hallway towards Danny.

Before he can react, the ghost is slamming into him, sweeping him aside, pressing him hard enough against the wall to knock the air from his lungs. For a moment, he feels a wave of panic rise up in his throat--  _ invisible creature, the lab, dead, dead, DEAD-- _ but he roughly shoves it back into a manageable corner of his mind and coughs. 

“HEY, WHAT THE HELL--”

“DANNY, WHAT--”

Tucker and Sam shout at him in unison, and Danny almost wants to laugh at the fact that it probably looks like he’s levitating against the wall. Well, he’d laugh if he wasn’t currently looking into the putrid, rotting face of some long-dead ghost. Right now, he’s trying not to throw up at the stink of rot.

**_YOU DO NOT BELONG HERE._ **

“The Mansons think otherwise.” Danny says in a snarky tone, then immediately bites his tongue in horror at his outburst.

**_THEY DO NOT KNOW WHAT YOU ARE. GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUTLEAVELEAVE-_ **

“Oh my  _ God _ , you’ve been yelling that in my head for HOURS!!” He shouts, and some urge he can’t explain comes over him. 

He brings up his hands to grab at the ghost’s forearm, and an eerie greenish-white glow lights up the veins in them, like the roots of a plant. He stares at his hands in shock, and at the sight of the glow, the ghost lets out a hiss and lets go of him. 

For a few moments, they merely watch each other with mutual distrust, not moving at all save for the ghost’s dripping ichor and the heaving of Danny’s chest. Then, the calm spell is broken and the ghost speaks to him again.

**_YOU ARE AN ABOMINATION._ **

Danny narrows his eyes and tries not to let the sting of the ghost’s words show on his face. “Haven’t you got any new insults? You’ve been throwing that one at me since I got here.”

**_WATCH THE ATTITUDE, BRAT. I CAN STILL KILL YOU IN AN INSTANT._ **

“I’m not giving  _ attitude _ ,” Danny says in a low, shuddering voice. “I’m being honest.”

By now, the friendly ghost has recovered from his struggle and floats forward to place himself between the ghost and Danny. The malevolent ghost narrows its empty black eyes. 

**_WHY ARE YOU DEFENDING HIM._ **

**Two reasons. One, he’s just a child. Two, I’m not an asshole.**

A wave of pressure chills Danny to the bone moments before the angry ghost shimmers and vanishes from sight. After taking a few moments to make  _ sure _ he can’t feel the ghost nearby, Danny lets out a heavy sigh and slumps back against the wall. As soon as he slides down to sit on the floor, Sam and Tucker are there, fussing over him and checking him for injuries.

After a couple minutes where Danny merely absorbs the gentle contact, he tilts his head up to look at his friends and gives them a genuine smile. “I’m fine, guys. It just knocked the wind outta me. I’ll live.”

Sam and Tucker slump back on their knees at the same time, heaving sighs of relief. 

“Why is it always  _ you _ getting sucked into whatever mess shows up in Amity Park?” Sam sighs with a crooked smirk.

Danny blinks at her owlishly. “What do you mean, ‘why is it always me’? I never get caught up in weird crap like this.”

“The time Dash dared you to a stupid Halloween contest and you actually accepted and lost?” Tucker quips.

“How about when you actually listened to that fake love note and instead of seeing Paulina, you ended up having to climb the school roof to get away from the football team?” Sam adds, crossing her arms.

“And what about the day that--”

“ _ Okay, I get it,” _ Danny groans, rubbing at his tired eyes. “But back to the ghost. What the  _ hell  _  am I supposed to do?”

The three of them sit in pensive silence for a time, during which Danny shoots a few probing glances at his ghost friend, who shrugs and makes an ‘I don’t know’ sound. At the gesture, Danny almost wants to shoot a sarcastic comment at the  _ incredibly  _ helpful spirit… but seeing as this is so far the only ghost that hasn’t been awful to him, he decides not to. He’d rather not incur the wrath of the only nice dead person he’s met.

Eventually, after an uncomfortable amount of time, Sam takes a breath and rises to her feet. She jabs a thumb over her shoulder. “Well, let’s go back into the home theatre. We might as well be comfortable while we toss our one shared brain cell around.”

Tucker and Danny don’t object to her suggestion, standing back up and following her down the hall. Behind him, Danny feels the vague chill wafting off his ghost friend’s form.

**I’m sorry I’m not much help.**

Not wanting to risk looking even more crazy in front of his friends, he just casts a glance back over his shoulder and gives the ghost a reassuring smile. 

Well, as reassuring as one’s smile can be after being attacked by a poltergeist.

When they re-enter the home theatre, the three of them wordlessly find a spot on the red couch in the centre of the room and take a moment to formulate their words. 

“Uh, this is  _ really _ not my thing, but if I know horror movie ghosts-- and I do-- ghosts are usually bound to earth because they have unfinished business here. Maybe we should try talking to it? Oh, and by ‘we’, I mean ‘you’, Danny--” Tucker explains, to which Danny rubs tiredly at his eyes.

“Yeah, I know,” Danny says, “I mean, I’m the only one who can properly talk to the ghost anyways.”

Sam pushes some stray hairs from her face. “Sounds like a good place to start. If the ghost doesn’t talk, what should we do?”

“I don’t know, call the Ghostbusters?” Tucker suggests, and Sam whips one of her bat-patterned slippers across the room at him.

**I can try chasing him from the house. It’s only a temporary fix, since he’s so obsessed with this place, but it’ll be enough to get you kids through the night.**

Danny raises his head to glance between his friends, clearing his throat and saying, “The  _ nice _ ghost that follows me around says that if all else fails, he can chase the poltergeist from the house for the night.”

“I mean, that’s great and all,” Sam replies, “But now that I know there’s a freaking  _ ghost _ in my house, I’d be more comfortable if we could get rid of it for good. I like creepy stuff as much as the next guy, but I’d rather not have dead people staring at me while I sleep.”

“That’s understandable,” Danny agrees with an awkward titter, running a hand through his hair.

**_YOU ARE A MENACE,_ ** the angry ghost’s sneer resonates in Danny’s head again.  **_I DON’T CARE IF YOU HAVE THE SAME POWERS AS A SPIRIT, I’LL GUT YOU LIKE A TROUT._ **

Before he can mull that lovely picture over too much, Danny takes a deep breath and rises to his feet again. “Well, it’s now or never, I guess.”

“Guess so.” Sam nods.

“If I pass out, don’t take me to a hospital and don’t revive me.” Tucker groans.

**If your friend dies, maybe I’ll finally have more than one friend to talk to,** the friendly ghost chuckles, bringing a small smile to Danny’s face.

“Nobody’s dying tonight, Tuck.” He laughs, feeling lighter than he has over the past week despite the fact that they’re about to march off and fight a ghost.

Thankfully, Tucker just returns the smile with one of his own. It’s a lot more wobbly than Danny’s, but seeing the smile is enough to loosen the knot in his chest. 

* * *

When they finally gather up their collective courage and step back out the door, it’s Danny who takes the lead. Seeing as he’s the only one who can sense exactly where the ghost is, it makes perfect sense for him to lead the charge. 

That doesn’t mean he has to like it.

Frankly, he’s not quite sure what to think of all this. He’s trying to roll with the punches as best he can, but it’s hard not to feel like he’s having his privacy violated all the time, with ghosts and spirits able to bash loudly into his brain at any moment. Danny hopes there’s some way he can close off his head to invaders and that he finds it soon.

Sam’s phone flashlight paints the walls in harsh white light ahead of them and the AC kicks in, rumbling low and heavy through the walls. That, coupled with their tense silence, makes it feel kind of like they really are in a horror movie. All they’re missing is the axe murderer.

The angry ghost’s dark, swirling aura grows more tangible, creeping along Danny’s skin like hundreds of spiders, hissing quietly in his ears, and pushing at his legs as though the ghost is actively trying to slow him down. It’s uncomfortable in the way wet socks are annoying: relatively harmless, but preferably avoided, and Danny has to bite his lip and push past his comfort zone to keep slogging onward.

It doesn’t take long to reach the main floor, but Danny’s already exhausted. Well, it’s not like he wasn’t already exhausted, but he feels almost dead on his feet at this point. Even so, he rubs at his arms as the air conditioning gives him a chill, then continues tiptoeing in the direction of the ghost’s aura.

They’re just about to the living room when Danny turns around to give his friends a heads-up… and Tucker lets out half a shriek before catching himself and slapping a hand over his mouth. Danny cocks an eyebrow at the equally-surprised look Sam gives him. “What?” 

Sam shifts her phone light experimentally from left to right for a few seconds, still trained on Danny’s face, before whispering, “Don’t freak out, but your eyes are lighting up.”

_ “What?!”  _ Danny hisses, instinctively reaching up towards his face.

“Yeah, it made me think of the time I took out the trash and there was a raccoon sitting in the alley eating garbage. You’ve got raccoon eyes, dude,” Tucker explains with a vague gesture towards his eyes.

For the first time since the accident, Danny feels himself growing _excited_ with his powers. “Whoa, really??” he feels a grin spread across his face, _“Awesome!”_

“Can we focus on one thing here, guys?” Sam grumbles, and Danny snaps out of his awe. 

“Right, right. Uhh, the ghost is in the living room. So prepare for… I don’t know, anything? Weird stuff is probably gonna happen,” he explains haltingly, still unsure of what exactly he’s going to say when he confronts the ghost.

His uncertainty must not show on his face, because Sam and Tucker merely nod with the same determined expressions. Then, Danny tries to calm his wildly thumping heart by taking a deep breath and wringing his fingers. 

_ Okay, Fenton, one step at a time. _

He pushes open the massive mahogany doors leading to the living room and is immediately assaulted by the rancid stench of rot. He gags, slaps a hand over his nose and mouth, and steps into the room.

The ghost is about twenty feet away, almost at the complete opposite end of the living room, and it’s just as terrifying as it was half an hour ago. The air around it pulses with dark, flickering energy like ink in water, vanishing when the yellow lamplight filtering in through one window hits it. Toxic black ichor still oozes from empty eye sockets, a mouth with no lower jaw, and collapsed, rotting nasal cavities. A moth-eaten black suit and bedraggled red tie hang off its emaciated body, doing nothing to help the fact that this ghost looks like a corpse given life. At the sight of Danny, the ghost’s aura flares and hits him like a freight train, pummelling him with  _ rage fury sorrow anger protection hostility loneliness hate. _

Wait. 

Loneliness. Protection.

A spark of inspiration bounces to life in Danny’s head, and he steps closer. 

**_FILTHY RAT_ **

_ Ignore it. It’s just like Dash and the A-Listers.  _

**_I WILL TEAR YOU APART._ **

_ It can’t touch me, the other ghost’ll stop it if it attacks me. _

He stops ten feet away from the ghost, trying to hold onto his consciousness as the ghost’s energy continues to punch at him in waves. 

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” he says calmly despite the way his legs tremble uncontrollably. “My name’s Danny Fenton, and I just wanna talk.”

**_I WILL NOT SPEAK TO A CREATURE LIKE YOURSELF. MONSTER MONGREL ANIMAL GET OUTGETOUT--_ **

“You don’t like me. I get that. I… I’m something you don’t really understand, I guess. But I’m,” he breathes through his mouth to keep the rotting-corpse smell out, “I’m new to this too. I don’t know what I’m doing, but, um. Your… aura, I think? It… felt lonely.”

This time, the ghost doesn’t scream a reply. So Danny continues. 

“I  _ really _ don’t know what to do to help, but ghosts are kept here because they have unfinished business or something, right?” the ghost doesn’t reply. “Okay, well… I just wanna help. If-if I can.”

**_YOU CANNOT HELP ME._ **

The voice, instead of being threatening and hostile, is harsh but laced with something like melancholy. The ghost’s aura is tinged with solemn sadness, which Danny feels burning his chest and throat. He steels himself and continues, “Can I at least try?”

A pause. 

Then,  **_I suppose._ **

The tar-black energy swirling around the ghost dissipates until there’s nothing but vaguely-shimmering air at the very edges of its form. The aura and overpowering stink becomes more muted, like an afterthought rather than an active effort to drive him away. Danny blinks in surprise as the ghost’s form flickers and it momentarily appears human and whole once again.

**_It seems I forgot what kept me here,_ ** its form shimmers again,  **_but now I remember._ **

“Is… is it something I can help you with…?” Danny stammers.

The ghost flickers a few more times, then manages to assume its stabilized form. 

It’s an old man, skin spotted with age, but holding himself in a way that screams ‘high-class’. A pair of delicate glasses sit lightly on the bridge of his nose, and his clothes are spotless and whole once more. Danny can’t help but think he looks like the sort of man who lives in some kind of palace or mansion.

**_I passed away before I had the chance to greet my only grandchild. I was driving to visit the family when I suffered a stroke and died at the wheel. In my last moments, I only felt despair that I couldn’t see the child._ **

For a few seconds, Danny just mulls this over. But it doesn’t take long for him to start connecting the dots, and his eyes grow wide. He turns to face Sam.

“Hey, Sam?”

“What’s up?”

He takes a second to gather his words, then wrings his hands together and asks, “Uh, call me… crazy or whatever, but uh, have… have you ever met your grandfather?”

Sam blinks. “No. Grandma said he died when I was a baby.”

“Did he die from, uh, a stroke, maybe?”

A moment passes where Sam’s eyes swirl with a myriad of complicated emotions, Danny not once taking his attention off of her. Then, after an indeterminate amount of time, Sam’s eyes grow wide and she stares at Danny in shock. “Is the ghost my  _ granddad?” _

Danny glances at the ghost for confirmation, and feels both shock and relief burn in his chest when he nods. 

**_I am._ **

“Holy  _ shit.” _

**_Holy shit._ **

Danny and the friendly ghost wheeze out the remark at the same time, which Danny would’ve probably laughed at had he not been trying to process the whole ‘dead granddad’ situation. Instead, he takes a moment to drag his hands through his sweaty hair and sucks in a breath through his teeth.

Granddad lets out a disdainful click.  **_Are all this generation’s young people so foul-mouthed?_ **

“Holy hell,” Sam breathes, taking a few steps forward to stand next to Danny. “My granddad is  _ right here?” _

“Y-yeah, he’s here. And he doesn’t look nearly as much like a horror-movie monster as he did five minutes ago,” Danny says with a joking tone, which earns him a smack on the head from the ghost’s gloved hands.

Rubbing at his head with an apologetic smile, Danny meets the ghost’s ice-white eyes and asks, “So is there, like, something you need me to say for you or something? So you can pass on or whatever you need to do?”

**_I…_ ** the ghost pauses,  **_...please tell her I’m proud of her._ **

Danny relays the message, which makes Sam purse her lips despite the glimmer of happiness that glows in her eyes. In response, she looks at where she thinks the ghost is and laughs, “I never got to meet you, but thanks. I’m glad that the only people who hate what I’m doing are my parents.”

The ghost’s aura flares with something like contentment, strong enough that Danny feels it working its way into his own head. For a change, though, this doesn’t feel invasive or probing at all. 

After Danny feels himself grow almost sleepy from the ghost’s contentment, it speaks softly.  **_I misjudged you. Perhaps the fact that you belong to neither the living nor the dead is a good thing._ ** It drifts forward and places an icy hand on his shoulder.  **_Thank you, Danny Fenton._ **

For a minute, nothing happens. Then, like a reflection on disturbed water, the ghost flickers and breaks apart into countless shards of ethereal glass, each one momentarily glimmering with a memory from the ghost’s life. 

As he watches the last of the ghost fade into nothing, he almost wishes Sam and Tucker would’ve been able to see it pass on. Though that would mean they’d be stuck with the same burden  _ he _ has to carry, and he wouldn’t wish this on anyone. 

Shaking himself, he feels the last dregs of hostility and rot fade, and turns to face Sam and Tucker. “That went way better than I thought it would,” his vision wavers with exhaustion, “but if I don’t get into a bed in the next five minutes, I’m actually going to pass out. Can we go to sleep now? Please?”

Sam and Tucker are still too baffled by the whole ordeal to say anything, but they  _ do _ turn and lead the way back towards the basement where the theatre room is.

Danny doesn’t remember crawling back into his sleeping bag, but before he completely sinks into slumber, he feels the friendly ghost squeeze his shoulder and hears its voice echo gently in his head.

**You did amazing, kid.**

* * *

“I can’t believe we actually went full  _ Buzzfeed Unsolved  _ on a ghost last night,” Tucker groans the following morning between bites of toast. “I’m  _ still _ kinda convinced it was a weird dream.”

Across the table from him, Sam and Danny exchange a glance. 

“Well, I perfectly remember being thrown against the side of the hallway at 2 AM, so there’s that,” Danny replies with a shit-eating grin at his friend.

Beside him, Sam snorts and pulls out her phone. “And then there’s also this,” she flicks on her phone light and shines it at Danny’s face, “if you’re still not convinced.”

Tucker stares at Danny for a solid few seconds before begrudgingly shoving another piece of toast in his mouth. “I mean,  _ that’s _ cool, but everything else? Terrifying.”

“Tell me about it.” Danny sighs as he scoops up some cereal. “I can’t believe my parents were right about the paranormal actually being real. So much for the ‘Fenton Crazy’.”

“Oh, no, your parents are still  _ ridiculously crazy _ . They just happened to be right about one thing.” Sam replies.

For a time, they all sit in companionable silence and eat, mulling over the events of the previous night. Danny’s just starting to realize that this is the first time he’s felt rested since the accident, when Tucker pulls his phone out and sends the flashlight in Danny’s direction. With an amazed hum, he moves the light around Danny’s face.

After about a minute of this, Danny sighs and says, “You’re not gonna stop doing that, are you?”

“Hey, it’s frickin’ awesome!! How many people do you know that have light-up  _ eyes _ ?” Tucker protests as he passes the light around Danny’s face again.

Sam places a hand on Danny’s shoulder with a laugh as he lowers his head and groans. “Not to jump on the ‘Danny’s got cool eyes’ bandwagon, but imagine the look on Dash’s face when your eyes light up like you’re about to vaporize him. Just let that sink in a little bit.”

Danny does, and good  _ lord _ that’s a face he desperately wants to see. With a laugh, he replies, “Y’know, maybe you’re right. This has  _ awesome _ prank potential.”

As they devolve into rapid chatter regarding a variety of pranks they think will have incredibly satisfying outcomes, Danny’s friendly ghost drifts back into the room. He glances over his shoulder at the ghost. Then, a sudden realization hits him and he excuses himself from the table for a moment.

The ghost follows him into the living room, where Danny faces him with his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “So, I know I was kind of a jerk to you when I first got my… powers, I guess? But, uh, I kinda wanna make up for that now. So,” he extends a hand, “I’m Danny Fenton. Nice to meet you.”

The ghost blinks at him in surprise before gingerly reaching out and taking his hand. After a few seconds of silence, the ghost smiles and replies,  **Nice to meet you, Danny. My name’s Alvin.**

“You okay with helping me stumble around this whole ‘I have spirit powers’ thing?” Danny asks with a smile.

Alvin’s aura flares with the soothing warmth of happiness, blanketing Danny with comfort and safety.

**We’re friends, right? So long as I’m here, I’ll always do my best to help you.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Spirit AU, or as I like to call it: the Team Phantom Says 'Fuck' AU.
> 
> In all seriousness though, I imagine canon Sam's grandfather has been dead for awhile since her grandma lives in the Manson house and her grandfather is never mentioned. So I figured her grandfather was a perfect 'first encounter' ghost for the kids: initially looks dangerous, but easy to talk to when his purpose is found.
> 
> A little note on the ghosts:
> 
> When a ghost is stable and calm, they appear like Alvin does: ethereal, white glow, can speak coherently. But if a ghost grows agitated, they change form into the way they looked after their deaths. So Granddad Manson looks like a rotting corpse. In addition, their ability to string coherent words together is limited and they grow incredibly fixated on what's got them so worked up. They grow much more violent, and in this form, they're referred to as poltergeists.
> 
> Hope this clears any questions up!!
> 
> (Also yes I did a bit of a redesign for Sam and Tucker, this was just for fun and not for any particular reason!)


	4. walk the line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your patience!! I hope you all enjoy this chapter!!

“I still can’t believe that stuff actually happened last night,” Tucker comments as the trio walks the familiar route to Casper High. “It’s like a fever dream.”

Danny lets out a snort. “More like a nightmare. At least _you_ didn’t have to smell a rotten corpse.”

“I don’t really know the guy, but I’d appreciate if you didn’t talk about my granddad like that,” Sam interjects with a sharp look at the boys. 

Wincing, Danny turns his gaze to the school at the end of the street. “Sorry. I guess that was rude, huh?”

“A bit, but it’s cool,” Sam sighs with a shrug. “I don’t know what he looked like or anything, so it’s understandable that you’re upset.”

He makes a noncommittal noise in response, tightening his grip on the straps of his backpack. The fall wind bites at his skin, creeping into his bones in a way that’s much more comforting than the icy cold of a poltergeist’s aura. In fact, he welcomes the chill more than he ever did before. Danny takes a deep breath of the crisp air as he revels in how _alive_ he feels, completely unlike the sort of dissociative, hazy feeling he’s been plagued by since the accident. Even when Dash’s car revs past and he slings a nasty insult at the three friends approaching Casper High, Danny can’t bring himself to feel upset.

Alvin must sense his newfound happiness, because the ghost chuckles in an echo like water dripping off cave walls and ruffles Danny’s hair. He doesn’t swipe at the ghost’s hand like he would if Jazz did the same thing-- it would look quite strange if he did reach up at Alvin’s hand-- but he casts a mock look of annoyance at him, which makes the ghost laugh a bit harder. 

It’s a nice sound.

As they push through the school’s heavy main doors, they’re greeted by none other than Mr. Lancer. He blinks in surprise at Danny, then strides hurriedly across the hall to stop in front of them.

“I heard that you were seriously injured in an accident and were in the hospital for a time, Mr. Fenton.” Mr. Lancer takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly before placing a reassuring hand on Danny’s shoulder. “It sounded bad. You had me worried.”

Before Danny can think to stop it, he replies with a quiet, “Sorry,” to which Lancer waves a hand dismissively.

“There’s no need for apologies, Fenton. I’m just glad to see you well enough to return to class,” the teacher responds with honest relief in his tone before he hurries off down the hall towards the faculty room.

After a pause, Tucker blows a raspberry. “Damn, I’ve seen it all now: poltergeists, your weird eyes, an exorcism, and as of today, Lancer being nice to you. Might as well put my money on getting attacked by a slasher movie monster if this pattern keeps up.”

“Y’know, maybe let’s _not_ bet on that?” Danny interrupts as they start walking again. “Because ghosts aren’t the only things I can see, and I’d prefer not to deal with those creatures if I can avoid it.”

Tucker stares at him with renewed horror. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“Nope.”

Sam starts bombarding him with excited questions about what these other ‘things’ are as they draw nearer to their lockers, to which Danny either gives a halting answer, or deflects it entirely. 

But as if the universe is looking for any reason to throw him under the bus, Danny becomes aware of a presence in the school that certainly isn’t a ghost. It’s more robust, more fluid in its movement, and feels as if it’s staring daggers in the back of his head despite the presence being a fair distance away. It doesn’t speak, it merely prods experimentally at his consciousness. The clinical, plotting sensation of it makes Danny’s stomach twist and his skin crawl.

“..nny? _Danny.”_ Sam’s voice snaps him back to reality, and he flinches with a gasp.

At his reaction, Tucker lets out a defeated groan. “ _Don’t tell me there’s a ghost in here.”_

“It’s-it’s not a ghost,” Danny stammers in a low voice. “I don’t know what it is.”

“Great! Now let’s completely forget that it even exists and go about our boring highschool lives,” Tucker squeaks as he reaches his locker and yanks it open.

“I don’t think we have that choice.” Sam sighs, running a hand through her hair at the same time a strange, raspy voice slithers into Danny’s head.

**_How strange you are. You walk the line between the first and second planes, neither dead nor alive, neither here nor there. How amusing._ **

**__ **

“Ohhhhh, good God. It’s talking to me. Right now,” Danny whispers, which makes Sam and Tucker stare at him in horror.

“What’s it saying?” Sam begins, but Tucker interrupts by shushing her desperately.

_“We still have a chance to pretend it doesn’t exist.”_

“I-it’s saying--”

**_Enjoy your current peace, halfa. It will not last, I shall make certain of it. I look forward to feeding on your flesh when I inevitably catch you._ **

Danny swallows, tossing his backpack in his locker and yanking out his books for their first period class. “It’s not gonna do anything right now, but it, uh… it wants to eat me, apparently.”

“Nice knowing you, dude.”

“Gee, _thanks_ , Tuck,” Danny groans as he shuts his locker.

Before he can sink into his own dark, paranoid thoughts, however, a cold hand rests lightly on his shoulder and he lets his gaze flick to the side, where Alvin watches him with a serious expression. Once Danny’s attention is on him, he removes his hand.

**_I can look for the spirit to make sure it doesn’t catch you by surprise._ **

Danny gives Alvin a tiny enough nod that it would be imperceptible to anyone not currently focused on him, and with a reassuring smile, Alvin turns and phases effortlessly through the nearest wall. He lets out an anxious breath and tries to calm his nerves.

_It’s gonna be fine._

* * *

Despite all the jokes and wisecracks he’s making about the situation, Tucker’s actually pretty concerned for his best friend. He’s just… never been very good at handling delicate emotional situations like this. The only thing he’s good at is making people laugh, lightening the mood, all that silly stuff.

But his usual sense of humor just isn’t enough to chase away the haunted look that lingers in Danny’s eyes, and Tucker can’t help but feel like he’s not being a very good friend. He’s overthinking, he knows it, but he can’t shove those thoughts out of his mind.

Even now, as their third-period class with Lancer starts drawing to a close, he sees the way Danny’s face twitches every once in a while, the way his eyes flicker to focus on things that only he can see, and the way a muscle in his jaw jumps whenever something invades his head and speaks to him. It’s hard, not being able to help.

When Lancer turns back to the board, Tucker shifts to look under his desk at his phone in such a way that it just looks like he’s adjusting his position. Letting his eyes flick up momentarily to check if anyone’s looking, he taps out a hasty message.

_Tucker (11:53) _

_hey danny u gud_

Tucker shoves his phone back in his pocket then, quickly grabbing his pencil and jotting down a few more notes about Shakespeare, to make Lancer think he’s paying attention. It’s not long before Tucker feels his phone buzz and he steals a glance at his lit up lock screen.

_Danny (11:55) _

_its talking to me. Have headavhw_

_hedachr_

_hedache_

_fuck_

Barely catching himself before he snorts with laughter, Tucker glances back up at the board just as Mr. Lancer turns around to explain some more mind-numbingly boring crap about people who died hundreds of years ago. This continues for a few more minutes, but just before Tucker’s certain his brains are gonna turn to mush and fall out his ears, the lunch bell rings and everyone leaps up in unison, desperate to escape the confines of Lancer’s classroom.

Tucker, however, doesn’t tear out the door with reckless abandon like he usually does. Instead, he scoops up all his books and makes his way across the room to stand next to Danny’s desk. Danny himself is just shoving himself up out of his seat and carding his fingers through his hair like he’s been doing often these days. 

“You sure you’re good, man?” Tucker asks with a worried look at his friend.

Danny takes a moment to screw up his mouth thoughtfully, then grabs his books and sighs, “I don’t know, Tuck. This is… this is a lot.”

“Can we do anything?” Tucker continues hopefully as Sam comes over as well.

Shaking his head, Danny replies, “I don’t think so. But… why was it me?” They start for the door. “I’m nobody important, I’m just _me_. I’m not a hero or anything, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh, come on. You’re pretty cool, Danny. You’re the _perfect_ person to get comic book superpowers,” Sam says with a reassuring smile, which Danny doesn’t notice as his eyes are trained on his feet.

Danny heaves a sigh. “I don’t know, guys. I really don’t.”

They make a quick detour to their lockers to drop off their books, but after that they make a beeline for the cafeteria. And for a minute, Tucker’s sure everything’s gonna be just fine.

Of course, that doesn’t last.

Danny stops stock-still in the halls, a blank expression on his wide-eyed face. Sam and Tucker both stop dead when he does and immediately rush to his side when they see the state of him. His body vibrates with minute tremors, his fingers twitch mildly, and for some reason, when Tucker tries to shake him out of his trance by the shoulder, his skin is cold as ice. 

On the verge of panic, Tucker steps in front of Danny and takes a deep breath before slapping his hands on Danny’s cheeks. This seems to do the trick, because Danny sucks in a sharp breath and flinches hard enough Tucker feels his wrists hyperextend. After taking a second to catch his breath, Danny drags a hand down his face with a groan.

“What was _that?”_ Sam demands, more out of worry than anger.

Danny lets his hand fall from his face, and Tucker once again picks up on that eerily haunted look in his friend’s eyes. “The monster, or whatever it is. It’s in the cafeteria.”

“Are you serious?” Tucker replies incredulously.

Danny nods. “It’s… it’s not doing anything _bad_ , really, it’s just creeping around the kitchen and scavenging whatever meat’s lying around? I don’t know, I can’t hear its thoughts and it’s not talking to me, but I can _feel_ it. Like, I know where it is and what it’s doing.”

In an effort to lighten the mood, Tucker whispers, “ _Oh my God, it’s your spidey sense.”_

“I guess?” Danny stammers, but some of the tension has melted from his posture. Tucker smiles. _Mission accomplished._

An idea hits Tucker then-- a terrible idea, but an idea nonetheless-- and he adjusts his hat before sucking in a deep breath through his nose. He lets it out his mouth slowly, and only then does he muster up the confidence to bring it up to Sam and Danny.

“How ‘bout we go look for the monster? Like, together? Danny leads the way, and if it pops up, we-- I don’t know, throw holy water at it?” He pauses. “I mean, it’s targeting Danny. It’s better if we stick together so it doesn’t attack.”

Sam presses a hand to her chin thoughtfully for a few moments before shooting an amused look in Tucker’s direction. “Not a bad idea, geek boy. I’m down for that.”

“No. Absolutely not,” Danny says with a shake of his head. “I’m not dragging you guys into my--”

“Too bad, Paranorman, the three of us are a package deal. Your mess is our mess, and you can’t pry us off of you no matter how many wacky powers you’ve got!” Tucker chirps with a cocky grin at his friend, who gives him a dirty scowl.

Sam hums in agreement. “Tough shit, Fenton, we’re the ticks on your back. Except instead of leeching off of you, we’re here to help you out.”

After a long staredown between the three of them that Tucker finds incredibly uncomfortable, Danny lets out a long, exasperated groan and rubs at his eyes. “Fine. _Fine._ Okay. I guess this is what we’re doing now.”

“I knew you’d see our side in the end.” Sam laughs impishly.

Tucker elbows Danny in the ribs. “We’re a team. Lone Wolf mentality will earn you a swift kick in the ass.”

“I hate you both,” Danny mutters with no real bite to his words. 

“Love you too!” Tucker and Sam singsong in reply as they round the last corner before the cafeteria.

* * *

When they reach their destination, Danny starts to understand why the spirit’s agitation and fury isn’t fading at all. 

Back in the first year, Sam proposed ‘Vegetarian Thursdays’, a once-weekly event where all the cafeteria food is completely vegan- and vegetarian- friendly. Tucker hadn’t been the most enthusiastic about it, even going so far as to make a petition on Change.org that ultimately flopped. Today just so happens to be Thursday.

Judging by the palpable rage pulsing through the cafeteria in waves, the spirit isn’t a fan of Vegetarian Thursdays.

Danny casts a wary look around the cafeteria, searching for anything paranormal hiding under tables or in the shadows of trash cans, but to no avail. Not that Danny particularly expected to see anything out here; the spirit’s aura radiates angrily from the kitchen.

He takes a breath before grabbing a lunch tray and heading for the food counter. “It’s in the kitchen. There’s no way we’re gonna get close to it right now.”

Sam shrugs. “Oh well. We’ll just come back after school’s out, or something.”

“Yeah, we don’t have to go running into the jaws of death and unimaginable horror right _now._ ” Tucker says with obvious relief, despite having been the one to suggest the whole thing.

Alvin chooses that moment to float through the nearest wall and tap Danny on the shoulder, which makes him flinch in alarm, heart hammering. The ghost floats into his field of vision to give him an apologetic look before speaking.

**_I can try speaking to the spirit, if you want. Spirits typically respect the dead, since that’s what they used to be. I might be able to reach an agreement with it._ **

For a moment, Danny feels a pang of worry-- if things go wrong and for some reason the spirit decides to attack… Alvin is the only kind paranormal creature he’s met. He’d rather not lose his only non-human ally.

Though... the look of confidence on Alvin’s face is just enough to sway him. He gives the smallest of nods, disguising it by grabbing a spoon and scooping some food on his plate. Alvin bids him a quick farewell, then vanishes through the lunch counter. 

No sooner have Danny, Sam and Tucker sat down than a harsh cackle resounds in his head. 

**_A spirit who doesn’t know how to utilize the second plane to speak without human words. Now that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in fifty years._ **

Silence. Then, it continues on.

 **_Why yes, I_ ** **am** **_projecting my words into the halfa’s mind. He might as well listen in, if he’s going to send his dead messenger boy over. Quite cowardly of you if I might add,_ ** **halfa.**

By now, Danny can slightly discern some traits in the spirit’s voice; things like the rasp of an elderly person’s grumble, the slightly higher pitch of a female voice. It’s almost reassuring in a way, that he can discern these things without having to see the spirit face-to-face. 

**_There is no way in all the planes that I will willingly give up my territory. Casper High is mine. And causing discord among the staff and students is quite an entertaining way to spend my immortality. I am staying right here._ **

Danny’s grip tightens enough for the handle of his fork to bite painfully into his hand. He tries his hardest to keep the scowl off his face, but the looks Sam and Tucker give him tell Danny he’s not doing the best job of it.

**_Ah, I feel your animosity. Quite a temper you have, halfa. You should respect your elders, both human and spirit. If I so wished, I could come out of hiding right now and tear you limb from limb._ **

He knows this intimately, and the nerves that come from the threat force him to choke back his anger and shovel some pasta in his mouth. As he tries to focus on the taste of the food in his mouth, the spirit chuckles in a low growl, **_Your days are numbered, my dear._ **

A shudder runs through Danny’s body. At the same moment he starts planning out what to write in his will, he sees Alvin’s ethereal form shimmer to his right and lets his gaze drift over to the ghost. After a moment where he scratches the back of his head awkwardly, Alvin lets out an imitation of a sigh and says, **_I did the best I could, kid. She’s not gonna leave._ **

Danny gives a discreet thumbs-up as he twiddles his fork in his hand, trying to ignore the way Sam and Tucker stare at him in silence. 

 **_That’s not all, though,_ ** Alvin continues, **_There’s another ghost wandering the school. A child, about your age. He’s too shy to let me get near him, but he might be of some help._ **

_Another ghost…?_

The thought hovers at the forefront of his brain, rattling around like dice in a bag, shaking his resolve, making panic creep up his throat like icy claws… but then Alvin places a reassuring hand on his shoulder and the ghost’s aura seeps into him like spring sunlight. Warm, soothing, sleepy essence diffuses through his skin and fills him from head to toe, chasing the panic away and replacing it with something like confidence. Not cocky hubris, but vaguely optimistic self-confidence. 

He takes a deep breath through his nose, holds it for a few seconds, then slowly lets it out through his mouth. With the tiniest smile, he glances at Alvin gratefully. The smile the ghost gives back tells Danny that he understands his gratitude.

The rest of the lunch period passes without incident, which is rare. Most lunch breaks at Casper High tend to end in food fights, actual fights, or with Dash Baxter inevitably picking on Danny and humiliating him in front of everyone. 

In fact, Dash isn’t even _in_ the cafeteria. Odd.

The A-listers all sit at their usual table, but Dash is missing. They don’t seem particularly antsy or somber, so Danny assumes he must just be catching up on some extra work. Or something. He’s not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth; any break Danny can catch from the most popular boy in school is worth savoring. 

Danny finishes his plate of food moments before the end of lunch bell rings. Students all around the cafeteria grumble and groan about having to go back to class as they always do despite the way they hurriedly tidy up their tables and file out the door. Danny and his friends do as well, although at a slower pace.

Fourth period, the period directly after lunch, is usually when Danny, Sam and Tucker goof off, spray Dash Baxter’s locker with fart spray, or something of the sort. It’s their free period, and their favorite part of the day. Or, it _was._

Now, with this whole paranormal nonsense, Danny supposes they should do something more useful.

Once the majority of students have gone to their classes, Danny finally speaks freely about their situation. “I… don’t think the spirit will go out of its way to attack me right now. So, uh, I think it’s a good idea for me to try figuring out more things about the spirit from a distance. Vulnerabilities, size, whatever.”

“Sounds good. Lead the way, O Spiritual One,” Tucker exclaims with an exaggerated bow.

Danny shakes his head with an awkward laugh. “Actually, I’m gonna go on my own.”

“That has to be the dumbest idea I’ve heard since Sam started Vegetarian Thursdays,” Tucker quips, which makes Sam whip around and punch him in the shoulder.

As Tucker whines loudly about ‘the agony’ caused by her punch, Sam shoots a stern look at Danny. “You realize that puts you more at risk, right? It’s smarter to stick together.”

“I know, but…” Danny glances off to his side at Alvin, “...I don’t think I’m in any danger right now. And if we split up, we can figure more stuff out. The good stuff beats out the risks, y’know?”

Sam takes a deep breath. “I see your point. Doesn’t mean I like your idea, but I guess we can listen. What do you want us to do?”

Danny lets his gaze drift from Alvin back to his friends. With a shrug, he says, “I was thinking you guys could try looking for books on the paranormal in the library. And webpages, if you feel like using the computers instead. Something in those stupid books _has_ to have some kind of effect on actual spirits and ghosts.”

Sam and Tucker exchange an uncertain glance, then turn to face Danny. After a few moments of silence, Tucker adjusts his hat and replies, “Alright then, dude. Be careful.”

“‘Careful’ is my middle name,” Danny snorts, to which both his friends respond with withering glares. This does nothing to dampen Danny’s mood, however, and he gives them a small wave before wishing them luck and turning on his heel to head down the empty halls of Casper High.

Danny’s just preparing to widen the scope of his perception-- or whatever it’s actually called-- when Alvin taps his shoulder. 

**_If you’re alright on your own, I can keep an eye on Sam and Tucker. You have some lingering anxiety, I can feel it._ **

“You know,” Danny remarks, “that’s actually a really good idea. You’ll keep them safe?”

**_Of course, kid. I fought that old geezer last night and wasn’t injured. I can handle a stupid little spirit._ **

The distaste in Alvin’s voice is enough to pull a laugh out of Danny, who tries to stifle it with a hand but fails miserably. Alvin’s watching him with a smug grin, and Danny halfheartedly swats at the ghost, who flits out of reach with a chiming laugh. 

“Alright, get out of here already,” Danny snaps with a smile.

 ** _No need to get hostile,_** Alvin chuckles. **_I’m on my way._**

With that, the ghost phases through the nearest wall and leaves Danny standing alone in the hall. Now, with no distractions and tons of time on his hands, he continues on his trek through the school. With a sharp breath, he tries to focus on the spirit’s volatile aura.

Danny wanders the halls for about half an hour, stretching his senses to their limits, feeling for any vulnerabilities in the spirit’s aura, looking for something… _anything!_ Though unfortunately, he has no clue what he’s doing. So despite his best efforts, he doesn’t know what the hell he’s feeling when he tries to get a grip on the spirit’s aura.

This goes on for a few more minutes, right up until the spirit grows tired of him, cackles in amusement, and stabs its aura deep into his head. The sudden intrusion makes pain erupt in his head, scattering stars across his vision, and he quickly retreats into himself. It doesn’t prevent him from feeling arrogant pride-like tar seep into his bones from the spirit’s aura, though.

Danny lets out a frustrated groan and stops bothering her. She’s just toying with him, it’s obvious now that she doesn’t take him seriously. Why should she? Danny’s about the least threatening thing in the world! 

In his exasperation, he shoves his way into the nearest unoccupied room without warning, which just so happens to be the boys’ bathroom. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem. Today, however, as soon as he opens the door, a very repressed, fearful aura tickles at his subconscious and he stops dead. The door bangs shut behind him at the same moment he locks eyes with a pale, flickering ghost. 

For a few seconds, they just hold each other’s eyes in stunned silence. 

Unfortunately, it’s not long before the spell is broken and the ghost lets out a panicked shriek, whirling around to phase through the far wall. Danny opens his mouth and calls, “H-hey, wait-!” but the ghost is gone before it hears him.

After a few moments where he merely stares blankly at the wall the ghost leapt through, Danny reaches up and rubs at his eyes with a groan. 

_I’m never gonna get used to this._

* * *

“You saw _another_ ghost?!” Tucker exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. “How many ghosts _are_ there in Amity Park?!”

It’s the end of the school day, and the odd trio (plus Alvin) sit on the bleachers along the baseball diamond to share their findings away from prying ears. Danny lets out an exhausted sigh, dragging a hand down his face. “Too damn many. But it was scared of me and ran away, so it’s not a problem. Anyways, what did you guys find?”

Sam blinks at his sudden subject change, but recovers quickly and reaches around into her spider-shaped backpack to pull out a beat-up old hardcover book. Danny and Tucker sidle closer to peer over her shoulder at the pages as she brushes some lingering dust off the cover.

“I found this shoved behind the books in the mythology section, and it has some pretty neat information in it.” She gingerly opens the worn cover. “Some of the stuff in here is pretty dumb, but a few things are worth a shot.”

“Like what?” Tucker pries.

Sam flips to a page almost halfway into the old book, dragging a finger across the page until she finds the paragraph she’s looking for and taps it. “For starters, things like holy water, holy silver, all that sort of stuff which we probably won’t be able to get our hands on.”

Tucker lets out a bark of laughter as Sam hunts for the next paragraph she needs, “So does that mean Danny can’t walk into a church anymore? I mean, if holy water and stuff messes ghosts and spirits up, and Danny’s half-spirit, wouldn’t that mess him up too?”

“I… damn, I dunno. That might be worth checking out, actually. I’d hate to be dragged to Christmas service with my family and end up finding out that stepping into a church turns me to ash on the spot,” Danny comments, suddenly intrigued.

Before he and Tucker can launch into a whole new conversation about churches and the paranormal, Sam clears her throat loudly and continues, “ _ANYWAYS,_ another way to supposedly ‘ward off evil’ is to line your windows and doors with salt. It sounds dumb, but who knows? Maybe it’s worth a try.”

Danny takes a breath. “Okay, I guess I’ll try that tonight. Is there anything else?”

“Mmmmm…” Sam hums, skimming over a handful of pages, “ ...there’s some mumbo-jumbo on wards, incense, and sage, but I think I’ll read up on it a bit more before we do anything with that stuff. We don’t wanna mess this up, especially now that we know the paranormal is real.”

While he’s not happy to only have one method to test out, Danny supposes it’s better than nothing. He needs to try everything if he wants to ‘exorcise’ the lunchroom spirit, or whatever. He’s not sure what to call this whole gig. 

Sam shuts her book at the same time Danny rises to his feet and slings his backpack over one shoulder. 

Normally, they’d walk home with him, but both of them have after-school plans. Yet another reason to hate Thursdays. As if the vegetarian menu wasn’t bad enough. Danny doesn’t hold it against them, though; at least they have passions they want to pursue outside of school and probably even after they graduate. 

Himself, though? He doesn’t know what his future holds.

As he bids his friends farewell and starts for home, he finds existential dread starting to settle heavily on his shoulders. What _is_ he gonna do post-graduation? His grades aren’t good enough to get into college for astronomy or anything space-related, even though that’s what he really wants to do. Not to mention, if these powers are permanent, he’ll be too distracted all the time to focus on everything he needs to as an astronaut. 

Maybe he can just become one of those paranormal investigator TV personalities. Except he’s not acting and actually _can_ see dead people. Or maybe he can be a medium. 

With a scowl, he shakes his head. 

_I’ll just be known as another one of ‘those crazy Fentons’ if I do that._

**_You’re anxious,_ ** Alvin’s voice cuts through his messy thoughts. **_Y’wanna talk about it, kid?_ **

Double-checking for anyone in earshot, Danny shrugs and replies, “Just worrying about my future, I guess. I’m not smart enough to be an astronaut like I wanted, and any jobs where I can use my powers to help out will get me labelled as a psycho.” He drops his gaze to his feet. “I’m kinda stuck.”

After a short period where neither Danny nor Alvin speak, the ghost finally murmurs in a gentle voice, **_You probably want to work at NASA someday. The good thing is that not every job there requires honors-level intelligence. And you have the opportunity to get promoted to a more important role. You could be a contractor, a teacher, or something like that. But I know you have the smarts to earn a place with NASA as an astronaut or scientist._ **

“But what about the whole ‘I see dead people’ thing? What if I slip up and accidentally talk to a ghost or something and end up labelled as insane or whatever? I’d lose my job there.” 

**_Mental illness is pretty common. If anything, you might go for a psychiatric assessment and they’ll try testing you for schizophrenia or a similar disorder. They’ll find fuck-all, and you’ll be sent back to work. Maybe you’ll be known as the eccentric one, but they won’t fire you for something as minor as… oh, how about mistakenly thinking you heard a coworker say your name?_ **

Danny mulls this over for the remainder of the trek back home, and as the time passes, he starts feeling the existential dread fade. His anxiety sinks back to a manageable level. With a surge of relief, he feels like he can breathe again.

Before he opens the front door, he gives the ghost a grateful smile and whispers, “Thanks, Alvin.”

* * *

_Sam (23:41) _

_hey danny you try that salt thing?_

_or did u forget_

_Danny (23:43) _

_yeah I swiped some table salt from the kitchen and poured it on my windowsills and along the bottom of my door and apparently Alvin can’t phase through the walls now_

_so salt works ig?_

_Tucker (23:43) _

_Is alvin ur ghost friend?_

_also lmao ur Dean Supernatural_

_Danny (23:44) _

_yea alvin’s the ghost_

_tucker stop bullying me_

_Sam (23:45) _

_Im glad it works_

_maybe we can use that against the spirit? we can trap it somewhere??_

_Danny (23:45) _

_idk but we can try_

_Tucker (23:46) _

_omg tomorrow u should walk into the cafeteria and say ‘hey demons its me ya boy’_

_go full Shane Madej_

_Danny (23:47) _

_Tempting… but the spirit already wants to fuckin eat me so idk how good an idea that is_

_Tucker (23:47) _

_at least you’d go out like a legend_

_Sam (23:47) _

_go to bed jesus christ_

_Danny (23:48) _

_You don’t have to tell me twice_

_night guys_

_Tucker (23:48) _

_sleep is for cowards_

_and i am absolutely a coward good night america_

_Sam (23:49) _

_god i need some more girl friends_

_night dummies_

_Tucker (23:49) _

_nightyyyy_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if yall can guess who the spirit and strange ghost are you'll get a yeehaw from me chief
> 
> but seriously, this fic is so much fun to write and I'm glad you all like it so much!!


	5. claws and teeth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait!! This chapter is currently unbeta'ed but when my beta reader is available, I'll update the chapter with the edits! :D

Danny’s alarm goes off at 5 in the morning, which is both absolutely abhorrent and perfect. Abhorrent because, well, it’s  _ five in the morning, _ and perfect because this is exactly how early he wanted to wake up. Groaning, he swipes at the alarm clock on his bedside table, misses the ‘off’ switch, and knocks it onto the floor with a thud. He stays frozen in place for a few seconds as he tries to process what just happened, then rolls over to grab the clock off the floor and shut it off. He doesn’t bother putting it back on the nightstand and drops it on the floor for Future Danny to deal with.

Now that he’s awake, he yawns, rubs at his eyes, and slogs out of bed. From there, it doesn’t take long for him to switch out of his pyjamas and into his favorite jeans and red-and-white t-shirt. As he crosses the hall into the bathroom, Alvin melts through the wall and rubs at his eyes.

**_You’re up early._ **

“Yeah,” he mumbles groggily, turning on the tap to splash his face with lukewarm water, “I’m gonna try talking to the spirit myself.”

Alvin’s aura spikes with alarm,  **_Are you off your rocker? She’ll kill you!_ **

“Guess I’ll die, then. But in all seriousness, I think I might be able to come to some kind of agreement with her. Like, that I’ll stop bugging her if she promises not to eat me. Or hurt anyone. I don’t know.” Danny sighs as he leaves the bathroom to gather up his school stuff and the supplies he’s set aside.

**_You’ve had these powers for… what, a week? Mastering whatever this is will take a helluva lotta time, kid, don’t go acting all cocky because you helped a single ghost pass on!_ **

“I’m  _ not _ being cocky,” Danny hisses, roughly shoving a box of sea salt in his backpack, “I just want to talk. She talked to you, maybe she’ll appreciate talking to me.”

**_Listen, Danny, spirits used to be ghosts at one point or another,_ ** Alvin begins in an exasperated tone,  **_That’s why they’re usually fine with speaking to the dead that approach them. You, though? You’re a halfa. Halfas are obscenely rare, and spirits and ghosts don’t understand them. Like humans, spirits tend to lash out at things they don’t understand._ **

Danny pauses in his aggressive packing. 

What Alvin said makes sense. As much as some deeply rooted pessimism wants to rear its ugly head and negate the ghost’s words, Danny can’t find it in him to argue. Maybe that’s the ‘Fenton Stubbornness’ his mom grumbles about every once in a while, he’s not sure.

But Danny is nothing if not open-minded, and he lets the last of his anger seep out with a short breath.

He keeps tucking his ‘supplies’ into his backpack alongside all his school essentials as he finally replies, “Okay. I see what you’re saying. I mean, I’m still going to go,” he ignores Alvin’s sharp exclamation, “But I’ll call Sam and Tucker. If I’m gonna do this, I might as well have some backup.”

Alvin reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose for a few seconds, then raises his head to stare at Danny with narrow, disapproving eyes.  **_Teenagers are the worst._ **

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Danny chuckles, zipping his backpack shut and slinging it over his shoulders. He swipes his phone off the nightstand, double-checks the charge, then tiptoes out of his room with a ghost in tow.

**_You shouldn’t take that as a compliment. Honestly, you’re shortening my lifespan by decades here._ **

“You’re already dead.”

**_You’re still shortening my lifespan._ **

He makes a brief detour to the kitchen to stuff a few granola bars in his pocket, then pulls his shoes on and makes his way outside. When he’s a good block away from the house, he pulls his phone out and searches for Tucker’s contact info. The phone rings a handful of times, then clicks.

“Tuck? It’s me-”

**_“You’ve reached the cellphone of the amazing Tucker Foley. I can’t come to the phone right now because I’m probably designing a revolutionary new technology or lifting weights, but if you leave a message I’ll call you back as soon as possible.”_ **

Danny actually listens to the answering message the full way through. He rarely  _ does _ listen to answering machines, let alone leave a message, but this one is new and just ridiculous enough to hold his attention. When the message ends, he heaves a sigh and hangs up. 

“Guess Tuck’s asleep. I’ll try Sam.” Danny explains to Alvin, who still seems a bit peeved about the whole thing and doesn’t reply.

He finds her number and taps the call button.

Sam picks up on the third ring.

“Oh, you’re actually awake.” Danny remarks.

A yawn on the other end of the line.  _ “Am now. What’s up?” _

“Well, uh…” he pauses to collect his words, “...look, I’ll just be honest here and say I’m going to break into the school to try talking to the spirit and seeing if we can reach an agreement of sorts.”

The silence that follows is absolutely deafening, and Danny can very clearly picture the scowl that’s definitely forming on Sam’s face. The time seems to stretch an eternity and Danny’s almost starting to think Sam’s not going to answer at all. Finally though, she slowly says,  _ “Not gonna insult your intelligence because that’s mean, but I’m just gonna take a shot in the dark here and say you called me to come with you.” _

Danny nods although she clearly can’t see him. “Yeah. I was gonna go alone, but Alvin yelled at me until I agreed to call you and Tuck. Tuck didn’t answer, so I called you instead.”

_ “Well tell Alvin I’m proud of him for calling you out on your bullshit. Also, where are we meeting up?” _

“You’re in?”

_ “I’m in.” _

* * *

“Soooo… how are we gonna get in?” Sam asks as soon as they reach the back end of school grounds. 

Danny reaches up to rub at his tired eyes, then awkwardly laughs, “I… I’m kinda winging it? I’m sure we can find a way to get in. I mean, I’m half-spirit after all.”

“Unless you can walk through walls, disappear and fly, I’m not very confident in our ability to get into the school,” Sam groans as she once again finds herself regretting picking up her phone, “Speaking of weird stuff, what was up with the whole lightshow you had going on with your arms at my house? When my dead granddad grabbed you and threw you against a wall.”

Shoes scuffing the dew-speckled grass, Danny pauses. As Sam watches him with one eyebrow cocked, curious to hear what he has to say, she feels a chill pass over her left side. It’s more than a little unnerving to think about, but she knows it must be Alvin. She lets out an anxious breath and clutches her library book a little tighter.

Finally, Danny shrugs and glances at Sam with a confused look on his face. “I dunno. It’s probably just some more weird spirit-y crap I have to figure out on my own. I hope it’s not… bad. Or something.”

They continue walking towards the school in tense silence, and Sam almost wishes she could see the paranormal like Danny does. Or at least  _ sense _ it. Right now, she feels almost completely useless, navigating blind through a world she doesn’t fully understand with one of her best friends awkwardly leading the way. It’s  _ frustrating. _

Danny stops short, and Sam almost bumps directly into his back but catches herself moments before impact. She bites back a snarky remark, choosing instead to skirt around Danny to stand at his side. “What’s up?”

For a few seconds, Danny’s completely silent and his expression blank. Moments later, though, he blinks as though waking from a dream and glances at Sam with a vague smile. “Alvin’s found a way in. C’mon!”

He breaks into a run before he’s even finished speaking, leaving Sam to flounder for a few moments before she shakes herself and sprints after him. The slick grass below her combat boots makes it nerve-wracking and risky to run after Danny, but thankfully she manages to stay on her feet. When Danny skids ungracefully to a halt, almost falling flat on his face, Sam takes her time to slow her pace and cautiously reaches Danny’s side just as he regains his balance. He takes a moment to check his jeans for grass stains, then lets out a huff of relief and approaches the red brick walls of Casper High. 

It doesn’t take long for him to find what he’s looking for.

“Sam, help me out with this!” Danny stage-whispers over his shoulder as he kneels down.

Seeing as she doesn’t have much of a choice, Sam blows a few stray hairs out of her face and draws closer to him. When she does notice what Danny’s perched beside, she narrows her eyes and mutters, “You’ve  _ got _ to be kidding me.”

“What? It’s big enough for us to fit through.” he replies, banging a fist lightly against the ventilation grate secured to the wall.

Sam pinches the bridge of her nose. “Danny, the issue isn’t whether or not we  _ can, _ but whether or not we  _ should. _ How in the hell are we gonna get in without making a racket or leaving evidence that  _ we broke in like B-movie spies?!” _

“Don’t worry about it,” Danny says with a dismissive wave of his hand before dropping his backpack on the ground and rifling through it, “Alvin says he can deal with it once we’re inside.”

“Real reassuring.”

“Why do you have to be so pessimistic all the time?”

“I’m goth, Danny, it comes with the territory.”

“That’s fair.”

Their banter breaks just long enough for Danny to seemingly find what he’s looking for, and he pulls out a multi-tool with a vague exclamation of,  _ “Aha!” _

Sam… honestly has no idea what to say at this point. She merely watches in silent acceptance as Danny struggles to remove the rusty screws from the grate. It takes about fifteen minutes for Danny to remove the grate, judging by the passage of time blatantly staring at Sam from her watch. 

When he carefully sets down the grate and slings his bag back over his shoulder, Danny glances at Sam. “Ready?”

“Not really, but we’ve come this far. Let’s do it.”

Danny leads the way into the old metal ventilation system, and after taking a moment to ask herself why she agreed to this, Sam crawls in after him. The grate somehow bangs shut behind her, which makes her jump. Other than the sound, though, she takes this in stride. Paranormal stuff is just par for the course at this point, no sense in freaking out over it.

They reach a few intersections during their stressful trip through the ducts, but Danny navigates the twists and turns as though they’re nothing. He doesn’t say anything, he just slinks ahead of Sam like some sort of alley cat, led along an invisible path. 

It seems to take forever, but they finally find another grate leading down into the halls outside the cafeteria. Only now does Danny show any hesitation. For a few seconds, Sam sees tremors run through him like electricity, hears his breathing stutter and echo in the duct, feels anxiety radiating off him like a toxic cloud… but it ends more quickly than it started, and Danny sucks in a deep breath before shifting and slamming his foot down on the grate. It pops out and crashes to the floor below. Both Sam and Danny wince at the noise.

From there, they drop into the hall silently as the dead--  _ more quietly than that, considering the dead do in fact speak-- _ and creep up to the cafeteria doors. Danny pauses with one hand on the doorknob to glance back at Sam. “Hey.”

“Sup?”

Rubbing anxious sweat from his forehead, Danny whispers, “Can you reach into my backpack and grab the salt that’s there? We, uh, we might need it.”

“Gotcha.” Sam says with a nod.

Once she’s got the box of salt in her hand, she zips up the backpack and gives Danny a reassuring smile. He returns it, although a bit nervously. When they’ve both gathered up their confidence, Danny lets out an anxious breath and pushes the cafeteria door open.

As soon as they cross into the empty room and the door shuts behind them, Sam begins to feel like something is watching them. An intense feeling of  _ wrongness _ makes her head spin, her blood run cold, and her heart leap into her throat. It feels like ants creeping under her skin, like snakes coiling around her neck, like snow down the back of her shirt. Beside her, Danny isn’t faring much better-- sweat rolls down his face and neck and stains his shirt as he clenches his fists tightly enough for his nails to bite into his palms. 

For a time, they just stand there, trying to quell their nerves and get used to the feeling of the spirit’s energy pulsating throughout the room. After what could’ve been a heartbeat or an eternity, Danny takes a stiff step towards the kitchen. Then another. And another. 

Sam flips the lid off the salt container and braces herself as she follows Danny in silence. 

The early-morning sunlight paints the cafeteria a murky orange-tinted grey, and the light grows even dimmer when they climb over the counter into the windowless kitchen. Danny crosses first, then warily turns around to offer her a hand. She takes it, not about to let them get separated, not in a situation as precarious as this, and once her boots touch the tile floor, she gives Danny the best reassuring smile she can. This time, he doesn’t return it. He probably can’t.

In all honesty, Sam’s surprised she managed to smile at him at all.

They move the few metres it takes to stand directly in the centre of the kitchen, and that’s where they stop. Danny glances nervously at Sam, then clears his throat and calls, “H-hey, there. My name’s Danny, and this is Sam. We, uh… we just wanted to talk.”

It takes a while for anything out of the ordinary to happen, but when it does, Sam is utterly unprepared for it.

The shadows under the stoves, along the walls, against the counters, hell, even  _ their own shadows _ begin to twist and flicker as though they have a life of their own, defying the dim light trying to burn its way into the kitchen. Sam feels a thrill of excitement and fear twist her stomach all sorts of ways, but she doesn’t let it show on her face. Instead, she readies the salt and watches Danny for any kind of cue or signal.

“What do we want to talk about? Oh, um… I just… I have some objections to you wanting to eat me? An-and Sam does too. We were just wondering-- and you totally don’t have to take us up on this, I swear-- but uh… we promise to leave you alone if-if you don’t like… eat me?” Danny stammers in a shaking voice.

Then, out of completely  _ nowhere, _ Sam hears a grating sound in her head.

Steel on ice, blades on slate, claws on brick. Death rattle, viper’s hiss, wind through dead tree branches. A growl, snarl, sneer, cackle…  _ laughter. _

_ I can hear the spirit. _

Sam doesn’t have any time to ponder this, though. She barely has time to even recognize the odd noise in her head as a laugh before a crackling voice echoes in her skull and rattles her teeth,  **_What a surprise. Being in the vicinity of a Halfa makes it easier for those on the second plane to interact with the first._ **

“Danny, I  _ hear her.”  _ Sam hisses, hoping against all hope that he has an answer.

Though before he can even open his mouth, the air and shadows on the far end of the ovens twists, ripples, changes colour… and then Sam sees the vague form of the spirit towering above them.

It looks almost like the unholy offspring of a crocodile and a boar, if you’d never seen either of those animals before. Eyes blazing red like bubbling magma, dripping down greenish-black cheeks and reflecting off four ice-white tusks. A mane of wiry white hair runs down its back to its scaly tail, and sharp claws scrape across the tile as it stalks out of the shadows on stumpy, reptilian legs. Its entire body is marred with ancient scars like craters and gouges on the moon’s surface, and its entire form seems to be constantly changing like a flowing pool of bubbling tar.

It opens its mouth to let out a huff of breath, reeking of rotting meat and refuse, before it sneers in Sam’s head again,  **_I decline your terms, my dear. And you’ve not only brought yourself to me, but a second offering as well. How kind of you!_ **

Danny juts a hand out to bar Sam’s way, taking a step in front of her and putting himself between her and the spirit. And despite the way his entire body vibrates with terrified tremors, he doesn’t move. “L-look, we… we don’t want any trouble-”

**_Sam, my dear, how does it feel to know that your friend here is a monster?_ **

“Danny’s not a-” Sam begins, but the spirit takes a step closer and Danny and Sam take a step back.

**_I scare you, do I not?_ ** The spirit croons,  **_Your friend is half of what I am. He merely chooses to go on living under the facade of humanity, but he belongs nowhere. The living will not understand him, and the dead will not accept him._ **

“Shut up!!” Danny snaps viciously, more so than Sam even expected he was capable of, “I’m not a human, and I’m not a spirit, but I don’t care. I’m just me, and I am  _ so fucking tired  _ of having dead things tell me  _ I’m  _ the weird one.”

An overwhelming pressure fills the room in an instant, almost knocking Sam to her knees. She strains against the sudden weight, calling upon whatever physical strength she has in the deepest recesses of her body, and forces her head to raise. Danny’s struggling against the pressure as well, his knees trembling with the effort, but he still holds his position between Sam and the spirit. It’s pretty impressive, if Sam’s honest.

**_INSOLENT BRATS. I AM CARO COMEDENTI, THE DEVOURER, AND I WILL NOT BE DEFIED._ **

The voice is deafening and sends shockwaves of pain rocketing through Sam’s head, but somehow she manages to force herself to her feet and grab Danny’s wrist. His head snaps around to look at her, and she shouts,  _ “RUN!!” _

Danny doesn’t need to be told twice, and they whirl around and make a break for the counter.

* * *

In retrospect, this was a horrible idea.

Alvin isn’t around… he likely fled when the spirit, Caro-whatchamacallit, showed up and started talking. Which, Danny admits, is completely understandable and he’s not going to yell at Alvin for it if he and Sam survive this. 

As it is, he barely scrambles ungracefully over the lunch counter before the spirit violently smashes into it with a bellow of rage. Sam’s hand is still wrapped tightly around his wrist but Danny’s not about to shake her off. Actually, she’s probably the only reason he’s still sane right now. 

Behind them, Caro roars. Sam shoulders the cafeteria doors open so they can pass through, and only then does she let go of Danny’s wrist. They don’t slow their pace, shoes pounding on the linoleum and squeaking in protest as they round corners and change direction in a terrified frenzy. 

The only issue is that human beings are much slower runners than animals, let alone spirits. 

As such, despite the wild twists and turns they’re making, Caro is definitely gaining on them. 

Finally though, they slip up. Sam, ahead of Danny, makes a sharp right turn which he follows… and they both skid to a halt when the hall comes to a dead end, barred by locked doors. Sam hisses a curse, slamming on the doors in an effort to break through as Danny whirls around to face the spirit. 

The thunderous sound of Caro rampaging down the hallways subsides into slow, menacing footfalls. Her claws scrape against the floor, her breath comes in ominous huffs, and a low, rumbling growl makes Danny feel like his chest is being crushed. And then she appears, standing still and barring their only escape. Her face contorts in an eerily-human grin as she slowly approaches. 

Danny’s heart pounds so hard in his chest he feels like it’s about to explode. In his ears, he hears his blood roaring with his pulse, minute tremors run through him in waves, and he feels an adrenaline high trying to overpower his terror. He… he has  _ no fucking clue what to do. _

“S-Sam?” Danny manages to force out through his unresponsive lips.

She stops banging on the door with a defeated hiss. Then, she lets out a humorless laugh and remarks, “Well this isn’t how I pictured this going.”

“Maybe I should’ve stayed in bed.” Danny sighs, still watching as Caro draws nearer.

“You kidding? This is a hardcore way to die, man. Tucker’s missing out.”

**_SILENCE, PREY. YOU ARE GRATING ON MY NERVES._ **

Though as Caro draws nearer, Danny feels the gears in his mind slowly beginning to turn over and over. His eyes drift to the box of salt in Sam’s hand, then to Caro, and the gaps on either side of her that should be wide enough for them to slip through. Danny blinks, eyes growing wide with dawning realization. 

Under his breath, he whispers, “ _ Sam. I have an idea. Gimme the salt.” _

Sam shoots him an incredulous look, hesitating just for a moment, then gives him a subtle nod and offers it to him. He measures out the distance between them and the spirit using the tiles on the floor, and while he’s never been great at math, he doesn’t need to be to figure this out. When Caro draws within ten tiles’ distance from them, Danny makes his move.

With a sudden shout, he lunges forward, flipping the lid off the box and flinging the salt in a wide arc directly towards Caro. 

Wherever the substance hits the spirit, her skin hisses and bubbles, not unlike a severe burn, and she lets out a deafening bellow that leaves Danny’s ears ringing. He tosses more salt directly in her eyes, whipping his head around to shout at Sam, “ _ SAM, RUN!!” _

She doesn’t need to be told twice, immediately breaking into a dead sprint and sliding past Caro through the narrow gap she’d made in her frenzied dance away from the salt Danny had thrown. Once she’s clear, Danny throws the empty salt box at Caro and makes a move to race after Sam. And he’s almost sure they’re in the clear…

...when Caro recovers and whirls around. Danny doesn’t make it around the corner in time. 

Caro’s uneven, crocodilian teeth snap around Danny’s left leg, sinking into his skin like a hot knife through butter, and pain like nothing he’s ever felt explodes in his leg. He can’t help the scream that rips itself free of his throat as he falls to the ground and is slowly dragged back by Caro. However, seconds after his blood starts dripping everywhere, Caro screeches in what sounds like pain and drops him to stagger backwards.

Danny forces himself to roll onto his back and prop himself up on his hands, staring through watering eyes at Caro. By then, Sam’s doubled back and is sliding across the floor to Danny’s side, a grounding hand on his shoulder. 

**_BY ALL THE PLANES, WHAT IS THIS?!_ **

Caro’s coughing, retching, foaming at the mouth, spitting desperately… and Danny’s not sure why. Her form flickers and shimmers, reshaping into something unrecognizable-- until it  _ is. _

Where Caro had previously been a massive beast, she’s now a sweet-looking ghost, wearing similar clothing to the lunch ladies who currently work at Casper High. She’s yelling in pain and anger, still wiping desperately at her mouth, which now looks like it’s been burned with hot oil. 

_ What the-?! _

Danny doesn’t have time to think about it too hard, because she turns her burning red glare on him and black smoke billows from her lips. Sam grips his shoulder tighter, and despite the fact that she’s definitely terrified, she glares daggers right back at the ominously-approaching spirit in a way that would be comical if, you know, they weren’t in mortal danger.

Yet before she can get within striking distance, there’s a sound like a light breeze through windchimes and the air between them and the spirit shimmers with soft white light. 

The ghost from the bathroom materializes out of thin air. 

It’s a boy about their age, perhaps a year or two younger, wearing incredibly dated clothes with his hair parted directly down the middle. Danny can’t see the kid’s expression, but he’s sure it’s probably not a happy one.

**_Back off, you bully!!_ **

**_STEP ASIDE, GHOST BRAT,_ ** Caro snarls,  **_THIS IS NONE OF YOUR CONCERN._ **

**_It is when innocent people are in danger!_ **

Then, with a swift movement of the boy’s right hand, he draws an odd symbol in the air in front of him. The symbols he draw become visible, glowing silver moments before they flash brilliantly white and Caro howls in anger. When the light fades, Caro is gone. 

The ghost turns to face them then, face tired.  **_I’ll explain in a minute. First, let’s get your leg fixed up. It looks like it hurts._ **

**__ **

* * *

“How am I gonna explain this to my--  _ OW!!” _ Danny’s sentence is cut off when Sam dabs the deep puncture wounds with peroxide.

Sam swats him on the knee with the back of her hand, snapping, “Stop moving!!”

“It’s a bit hard when you’ve been bit by an actual  _ demon. _ ” Danny shoots back, but takes a breath and rubs at his eyes with a hand, “Sorry. That was kinda rude.”

“Yeah, it was,” Sam quips as she goes back to cleaning the bite around his shin, “But you get a free pass today since you’re under a lot of stress. Don’t make it a habit.”

With the last sentence, she shoots Danny a mischievous look that loosens a knot in his chest. He heaves a sigh and tries to relax so she can continue treating his injury.

The ghost had led them into a rarely-used broom closet where Sam and Danny now sit facing one another. The ghost hovers above them and a bit to the back of the closet, his white eyes wide as he shoots an anxious glance between the two of them. He wrings his fingers together nervously, as though he wants to say something but isn’t sure if he should.

After a few minutes of this, Danny heaves a sigh and looks to the ghost. “Thanks for saving us back there. We’d be goners if you didn’t come in when you did.”

“There’s a ghost in here?” Sam asks all of a sudden, and Danny once again remembers that he’s the only one who can see them. He nods.

“Y-yeah, he’s the one who made the spirit disappear,” he blinks, turning to look at him again, “How’d you do that, anyways?”

The ghost startles, hesitating for a few moments before haltingly replying,  **I, um. I made a Ward.**

“What’s a Ward?”

**A Ward is like… I guess in human terms it’s like a magic charm? It can send spirits and ghosts away for a time, and you can use them to protect yourself and prevent spirits and ghosts from entering your home. Anyone can learn to use them: humans, ghosts, spirits,** he shoots a meaningful glance at Danny, **Halfas…**

Gesturing with one hand, Danny interjects, “Wait, wait, wait. I’ve been hearing that word thrown around like crazy, what’s it mean? What’s a Halfa?”

Sam seems to be trying to focus exclusively on treating Danny’s leg, probably not bothering to listen to the only half of the conversation she can hear, which is just fine with Danny. He can explain the conversation later. 

**A Halfa is a creature that’s not bound to only one plane of existence. You’re half-human and half-spirit. You’re alive but can use the abilities of the dead. Half and half. Hence the name. Halfa.**

“Okay. That makes a lot more sense. I was worried it was, like, an insult or something.” Danny sighs, which makes the ghost let out a small, awkward laugh.

**No, no, it’s not an insult. If it was, I wouldn’t be calling you one.** He drops his gaze,  **I’m not a huge fan of… violence, or unkindness.**

“Oh, good. You won’t try killing me like almost every other spirit and ghost out there.” he jokes, which makes the ghost look at him with an earnest expression.

**Actually, the bad ones are in the minority. The only reason you only meet bad ones is because they’re not welcome in their home realm.**

Danny doesn’t really have a response to that, instead letting out a heavy sigh and leaning back against the dusty wall. “Jeez, this is a hell of a lot to take in.”

**Sorry if I’m overwhelming you, I just haven’t really been able to talk to anyone properly in… in a really long time.**

“No, it’s fine. I’m just not used to this whole ‘there’s more than one plane of existence and all the things I was skeptical about are real’ thing, y’know? I’m just processing.” he looks back at the ghost again, this time with a smile, “I’m Danny by the way. That’s Sam. She can’t see or hear you, but she’s glad you helped us.”

Sam doesn’t look up from wrapping a bandage around Danny’s leg as she quips, “Still not used to the ghost thing, but you’re cool.”

At her words, the ghost’s face absolutely lights up, and the pale white glow radiating off him intensifies just a touch. It’s endearing, in a weird sort of way.

**It-it’s nice to meet you both! My name is Sidney. Sidney Poindexter!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who guessed 'Lunch Lady' and 'Sidney Poindexter', you were right! 
> 
> 'Caro Comedenti' is latin for 'Flesh Eater'. It's the lunch lady spirit's edgy internet name. probably. idk man i needed a name for her because she probably wouldn't want to go around calling herself 'lunch lady' or 'barbara' or w/e her pre-death name was :')
> 
> Thank you so much for reading the fic!! <3


	6. ward

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the support so far!!! I can't believe so many people like this fic!!!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter! :D

**What is this, a ghost boarding house?**

“It’s temporary, Sidney just needs a place to crash until the actual incarnation of satan living in the high school is dealt with,” Danny sighs from where he sits at the desk in his room, red marker in hand and crumpled loose leaf paper littering every surface in reach.

Sidney hovers on his left, watching as Danny uses reference images on his phone and Sidney’s verbal descriptions to draw his own messy Wards. So far, only one of them has worked and even then, it was only strong enough to give Sidney and Alvin a tiny static shock when touched. He’d been wanting to crumple it up and throw it out like he’d done with every other failed Ward, but after Sidney’s insistent suggestion that he should keep it, Danny now has it taped to the wall in front of his desk. 

**Is it really safe to bring him here, though? Your family hunts the paranormal.** Alvin asks bluntly, crossing his arms from where he hovers a good four feet above Danny’s head, close enough to touch the ceiling if he so wished.

WIthout looking up, Danny starts drawing another Ward with a new set of hieroglyphs (Sidney said hieroglyphics seemed to work the best) and mumbles, “You’ve been hanging around here for over a week and nothing’s happened. I’m sure it’s fine.”

**Yeah, but that’s different. I’m a dead** **_adult._ ** **Sidney is a dead** **_kid._ **

**Hey, I died in 1952. I’m older than you by a long shot,** Sidney argues, head snapping up from where he’d been watching Danny draw.

**I died with a valid driver’s license. I also died closer to the release date of Star Wars: A New Hope.**

**What the heck is a Star Wars?**

**Oh my god, you poor sheltered baby.**

Danny stops drawing with a heavy sigh. “If you’re gonna be bickering like this all night, I’m sleeping in the backyard.”

**Shit, sorry kid,** Alvin hurriedly apologizes.

**Sorry, Danny,** Sidney adds, and Danny goes back to drawing.

“It’s fine. I just want you two to stop arguing,” he mumbles, finishing the last few lines on his Ward and holding it up.

He glances over his shoulder at Sidney, holding the paper out for the ghost to see. “How’s this one?”

Sidney hovers closer, adjusting his glasses so they sit more firmly on the bridge of his nose and squinting intensely at the page. After a minute or so, Sidney hums thoughtfully and gives Danny a thumbs-up.  **That’s the nicest one yet! Time to test it!**

Danny nods and watches with bated breath as Sidney extends his index finger to touch the paper. The room is completely silent right up until his finger actually connects with the paper.

There’s a sound like lightning striking a tree, ominous and crackling, moments before there’s a bright flash and immense force erupts from the paper. The shockwave pushes Danny’s rolling chair all the way back across his room to smack into the footboard of his bed, Sidney goes careening into the opposite wall, and Alvin screams in alarm as he’s launched through the ceiling. All of Danny’s papers, crumpled or not, are now scattered in every single corner of his room and fluttering noisily down from the air. One falls perfectly on Danny’s head.

None of them says anything for a long time. 

Then, Sidney picks himself up from where he landed on the floor, scoops up his glasses, and returns to a floating position with a bucktoothed grin.  **Wowzers, that was a doozy!! You did it!!**

“I… I guess I did?” Danny stammers, staring down incredulously at the paper still intact in his hand, crackling with silver-green energy. “Are you okay?”

**Yup! Just pushed my intangibility out of whack, I’ll be right as rain in no time! That’s a super good Ward!**

Danny can’t help the grin that finds its way to his face and reaches up to push his ruffled black hair out of his eyes. “That was  _ crazy.” _

**Right??** Sidney chirps moments before Alvin floats back down through the ceiling, form flickering wildly.

**_Jesus Christ, kid, give a guy some warning. You almost gave me a heart attack._ ** As Sidney and Danny open their mouths to shoot back a sassy reply, Alvin glares and points a finger at them.  **_Not a word about me already being dead or I’ll kill the both of you a second time._ **

“Is that even a thing?” 

**I’ll make it a thing,** Alvin threatens, but it just makes Sidney laugh and Danny grin cheekily.

Danny starts rolling himself back towards his desk, wincing at the lingering ache in his injured leg, when there’s a knock at the door that makes him seize up. Before he can open his mouth though, the knob turns and Jazz appears in the doorway, yawning and rubbing at her eyes.

“Danny? What was that big crash-- whoa.” she notices the sea of paper covering the entire room, blinks as if she can’t believe her eyes, then gives Danny an odd look. “What’s all this about?”

His eyes flick briefly to the right at Alvin and Sidney, who immediately shoot out suggestions. Danny, feeling the threat of panic starting to creep up his throat, doesn’t quite process them as two different responses and mixes them. 

“I’m studying hieroglyphs and practicing calligraphy. At… the same time.”

Jazz stares at him a while longer before she bends over to pick up one of the crumpled wards lying on the floor in front of her. She un-crumples it to inspect the image, then shoots a long-suffering look at her brother. “This looks like the stuff that mom and dad draw.  _ Please  _ tell me their crazy hasn’t rubbed off on you.”

“Me?  _ No _ , no, no,” Danny laughs, waving his hands dismissively, “Sam, uh, showed me some stuff on hieroglyphs and Kemetic symbols, and I thought it was cool. And I decided I wanted to… also do some… calligraphy. Yeah.”

Jazz cocks an eyebrow at the marker in his hand. “Calligraphy?”

“Uh-huh.”

“With a washable Crayola marker.”

“I don’t exactly have money to buy actual calligraphy stuff, Jazz, stop judging me.”

She looks like she wants to argue, but instead just lets out an exasperated sigh and pushes some stray hairs away from her face. “What was that noise earlier, though? It sounded like an explosion, almost.”

“I was leaning too far back in my chair and fell over backwards. I’ll be fine,” Danny lies, surprised at how smoothly the words leave his mouth.

_ Guess this is a part of my life now. _

Jazz shakes her head. “I keep telling you to sit with proper posture, and you never listen. Maybe that fall will teach you a thing or two.”

“Sure,  _ Mom.” _ Danny shoots back with a roll of his eyes, “I’ll go to bed soon, don’t worry.”

“It’s a Friday night, I don’t care what time you go to sleep at. Just keep it down, I work in the morning,” she replies with a yawn before turning to leave. “Night, Danny.”

“Night.” 

Danny waits until he hears her door click shut across the hall before letting out an anxious breath and rising from his chair to start picking up the papers scattered through the room. “This is stressful.” 

**What?** Sidney asks with a tilt of his head as Alvin floats closer to the floor and begins helping pick up the papers.

“Having to keep all this paranormal stuff a secret. I mean, I know  _ why _ I need to keep my mouth shut, but people are gonna think I’m nuts anyways.” Before Sidney can respond, however, Danny’s suddenly hit with a spark of realization and snaps his head around to stare at Alvin. “Alvin?”

**What’s up, kid?**

“Yeah, um, how the  _ hell _ are you doing that?”

**Doing what?**

“Picking stuff up!! You used to not be able to touch  _ anything, _ but then you pulled that whole poltergeist thing at Sam’s place and now you’re just cleaning my room like it’s no big deal. So yeah, how the  _ frick _ is this even-?!” Danny trails off with an inarticulate noise of confusion, and Alvin’s eyes slowly grow wider.

The ghost looks down at the messy stack of papers in his hands, then to Danny and back again. A childlike grin of wonder spreads across his face and he lets out an incredulous laugh.  **Shit, you’re right!**

**Huh,** Sidney hums before attempting to pick up a crumpled paper ball from where it lies on the floor. It doesn’t phase through his fingers like it should have, and the kid’s eyes fly wide open.  **_Gee whiz!_ **

“Are you telling me that neither of you have any idea why this is happening?” Danny groans, to which Sidney shakes his head and looks in his direction.

**Actually, now that I think about it, I remember hearing from a spirit a few decades ago that being in the presence of a Halfa strengthens your Essence so we can interact with the first plane. I thought it was just a rumor. But that probably explains why your friend Sam was able to see the Flesh Eater so clearly! Spirits can interact with the first plane to a degree, but without the presence of a Halfa, a human wouldn’t be able to see a detailed image of them.**

Wandering around as he collects the scattered papers, Danny mutters, “You’re just telling me this now?”

Sidney tosses the paper ball at Danny, which bounces harmlessly off his head.  **Well, smartass, it didn’t cross my mind until now.**

Alvin lets out a wheezing laugh.  **_Oh my god, he_ ** **CAN** **_swear._ **

**Yeah, I just don’t like to.** Sidney says.  **It’s improper and crass.**

“Feel free to swear around us if you need to. We really don’t care about being proper.” Danny sighs.

Alvin floats over and places his stack of papers on Danny’s, turning to admire the once again tidy room as the latter makes his way over to the desk to rest the papers on its surface. With a deep stretch and a yawn, Danny decides it’s about time to turn in for the night. He reaches across the desk to flick off his lamp with one hand and powers on his computer with the other. Alvin and Sidney hover over his shoulder, their curiosity palpable.

**Whatcha doing?** Alvin asks.

Danny types in his password. “Sidney hasn’t seen Star Wars. And  _ you  _ guys don’t really sleep, so if I leave my computer running, you guys can just watch Star Wars while  _ I  _ sleep.”

**Huh. That’s definitely better than wandering aimlessly around the neighbourhood every night.**

“Is that really what you do at night?” he remarks with a surprised glance over his shoulder at the ghost in question. 

Alvin shrugs.  **I mean, what else am I gonna do? Set off all the sensors and shit in your parents’ lab?**

“Fair point.” Danny finally finds the folder he’s looking for and boots up the first Star Wars movie. “Well, there you guys go. Have fun.”

**Thank you, Danny. You’re a really swell guy, y’know that?** Sidney says with something like reverence under the grateful tone, which Danny isn’t sure how to take.

So he just does what he knows best and gives the ghost a disarming-- yet tired-- smile. “Uh, thanks.”

From there, he slips into his closet to change into pyjamas out of the ghosts’ sight, tosses his dirty clothes in the laundry basket across the room, and rolls into bed with a heavy sigh. Sidney and Alvin stay incredibly quiet, which is nice. If they’d been chattering away the entire night, Danny’s not sure he’d be able to keep his shit together. Instead, he lets himself relax into his pillow and closes his eyes to the quiet rumble of his computer audio.

As it always does, his mind begins wandering aimlessly once his eyes close, focusing on nonsensical things, questions he has, and a few of the day’s events. And it’s just this edge-of-wakefulness, odd train of thought that suddenly knocks him wide awake. 

Alvin turns around as Danny sits bolt upright with wide eyes.  **Kid?**

Danny’s mind is racing at incredible speed, theories and strategies bouncing around his head like a bouncy ball in a small room… until it makes sense and everything grows still. He blinks a few times to bring himself back into the waking world, then glances at Alvin. A grin spreads across his face.

“I know how to get rid of the Flesh Eater.”

* * *

The following morning, Danny sits on the grass next to an unused sports equipment shed at the far end of the football field. The first frost of the year has set in, and Danny tucks his head into the grey fall jacket he wears, rubbing his chilly hands together in an attempt to warm them. Once again, he’s joined by Sidney and Alvin, who can’t shut up about Star Wars.

Danny checks his phone. 8:22 AM. Sam and Tucker should be here any minute.

And just like clockwork, Danny’s two friends appear at the far end of school grounds. Both of them look exhausted and miserable, coffee cups in hand and dark bags under their eyes. Danny kind of wants to apologize, but that’ll have to wait. They only have a short window of opportunity to do this, and if they don’t do it now, they might not get another chance for a while.

When Sam and Tucker get within a safe distance, they both shoot him mutinous glares. Sam takes an aggressive swig of her coffee before muttering, “Why can’t we do this at a  _ reasonable time of day.” _

“Yeah, what she said.” Tucker yawns.

Danny rises to his feet, testing his leg again and trying to ignore the way a sharp ache lances up his spine when he puts too much weight on it. It had healed completely by the time Sam brought him some spare gym shorts to wear in place of his shredded jeans the day before, but apparently something’s still messed up under the skin. He shakes that thought away. 

“Okay, I’m really sorry. I didn’t wanna get up either, but--” the vague sound of tires crunching on gravel reaches his ears and he glances at the school to see the janitor’s van pulling up to the back doors, “--this is our one shot. I swear if I get out of this alive, I’ll buy you guys lunch at the Nasty Burger for a whole month. Sound good?”

Sam and Tucker exchange a glance, then nod. With a cocky smirk, Tucker snickers, “Sounds good. What about if you die? Can I have your computer?”

“Funny,” Danny deadpans before pulling up the hood of his jacket and tucking his hair into the black beanie he’d brought along. He reaches into his pocket, withdraws two folded pieces of white paper, and hands one to each of his friends. “You guys clear on what to do?”

“Hell yeah,” Sam says with an impish grin.

“Clear as mud,” Tucker jokes, and Danny supposes that’ll have to do. 

With one last wave to Danny, Sam and Tucker slink around behind the shed to crouch down in the shadows and Danny starts for the school with Sidney and Alvin in tow. His heart’s threatening to burst from his chest and anxious adrenaline already courses through his veins like liquid lightning. Even so, he takes a deep breath and pulls a disposable medical mask up over his face with a determined scowl.

**You sure about this, kiddo?** Alvin asks with a hint of worry in his tone.

With a brief sideways glance at his friend, Danny nods. “Yeah. This way, I can get rid of the spirit and I also won’t be identified on the school’s security cams.”

**This is pretty cool!** Sidney chirps,  **It’s like we’re action movie heroes or something!**

**Yeah, except that we’re already dead before the movie even started airing and our only solace is a scrawny teenager who doesn’t know what he’s doing.**

The comment is meant to ease the moment’s tension, and it does just a little, but Danny still shoots a mock scowl in Alvin’s direction. Thankfully, the ghost takes it the way it’s meant and chuckles. 

The janitor appears from around the corner of the school, yawning and fumbling with his keys, and Danny ducks behind a picnic table, out of sight. Thankfully, the tired old man doesn’t notice and unlocks the back doors. As soon as he pushes them open and starts entering, Danny nods to Alvin, who rockets across the schoolyard at ridiculous speed. Just before the door bangs shut, Alvin grabs it and holds it open.

A few moments pass before Danny hears the ghost’s voice in his head.  **Coast’s clear, kid!**

Sidney follows Danny like an afterimage as he jogs across the open stretch of grass towards the door. Once he’s there, he peers through the doors’ thick windows just to make double certain that all’s well. He sees the janitorial closet at the far end of the hall with its door wide open, and hears the janitor rummaging around to do the weekend’s cleaning and floor polishing, and takes the door from Alvin.

Keeping low to the floor, Danny slinks through the doors and slips around the nearest corner. Sidney stays by his side as Alvin remains stationed at the door, poised and ready for the next phase of their plan. 

It’s eerie, being in the school on a weekend. Almost like being transported to another dimension entirely. It’s the same feeling Danny gets when he walks into a 24-hour convenience store at 2am, walking into a Target on a slow day, or… or like the feeling he got when he stood inside his parents’ portal. 

He shakes his head to clear it before the paranoia can sink its teeth into him. He has a job to do, and he can’t let himself be distracted. 

He’s almost made it to the cafeteria when an ominous chuckle rumbles in his skull,  **_You’ve come alone. You must have a death wish, my dear._ **

Before him, the air shimmers and swirls with paranormal energy, making a sound like the groaning of thin ice on a lake. And then, the Flesh Eater appears in front of them, this time in her humanoid form. Her face splits in a hungry grin.  **_Your blood may burn the dwellers of the second plane, but I imagine the effect will wear off when you’re dead._ **

Danny takes a breath and puts on his best brave face. “You’re gonna have to catch me first if you wanna kill me. And, I mean,” he lets out an insolent huff of laughter, “The only reason you caught me and Sam in the first place was because we got trapped in a dead end.”

Animosity radiates off of her, hitting Danny like a sledgehammer and nearly knocking the wind out of him. Her eyes burn like neon blood as they pass over him and his ghost companion.  **_You’ve forsaken your own kind, ghost._ **

**No, I haven’t.** Sidney says in a quavering voice, but holds his head high as he retorts,  **I just found someone who gave me the courage to get rid of you.**

If it were a less precarious situation, Danny would probably feel incredibly flattered and awkward at the same time. But as it is, the Flesh Eater is stalking closer, the floor temporarily warping wherever she places her feet.  **_I’ll kill you both._ **

“I’d like to see you try,” Danny snaps, reaching into his pocket and grabbing the small ziploc bag of salt he’d brought along. 

In one swift motion, he throws salt in the Flesh Eater’s direction, then spins on his heel and tears away down the hall. The spirit’s enraged howl rattles his teeth and echoes in his chest, but Danny doesn’t slow. Behind him, Sidney knocks over whatever he can in the hallway, hindering the Flesh Eater’s pursuit. 

Lungs burning, leg screaming in protest, sweat rolling down his skin, Danny only pushes himself faster, faster,  _ faster!! _ His entire being wills it, and as if by some divine intervention, Danny feels his legs tingle. He doesn’t have a chance to think about why he’s suddenly running at a speed Usain Bolt would only hope to reach. He just keeps running.

He rounds the last corner before the door and lets out a shout, “ _ ALVIN!!” _

**Ready!**

The janitor is standing in the hallway with a floor scrubber when Danny rockets towards the door, and is too shocked to say anything at all. As he-- somehow-- manages to vault over the floor scrubber and out into the chilly morning air, Danny calls to the janitor,  _ “SORRY IN ADVANCE FOR THE MESS!! YOU MIGHT WANNA GET OUT OF THE WAY!!” _

“Wha-??” Danny hears the janitor choke out moments before there’s a crash as the Flesh Eater rampages through the floor scrubber. The janitor lets out a scream of alarm--  _ I’ll have to go back and make sure he’s okay-- _ but Danny doesn’t look back. He keeps his eyes fixated on the rickety old supply shed at the far end of school grounds. 

Behind him, he can hear the huffing breaths of the Flesh Eater in her true form as she gains on him. Danny can  _ smell _ the rotting-meat stink from her mouth, she’s so close. His leg is threatening to give out, but the shed is  _ right there, just a bit further, come ON!! _

When he reaches it, he skids to an ungraceful halt, smacks into the door, and hastily wrenches it open before turning to face the spirit. He waits until she’s almost upon him before ducking to the side. She hurtles into the shed, claws scraping on the cement floor as she bellows and whirls around to escape. Before she can, though, Danny’s slammed the door shut and Sam and Tucker leap out of their hiding spots to slap the wards against the shed door. 

Even with the three of them holding it shut, the Flesh Eater still has much greater strength. And Danny’s getting worried that this isn’t going to work. 

_ “Come on, come on, come on, work, work, WORK--!”  _ Danny hisses under his breath like a mantra, hoping for some kind of miracle.

As Danny’s starting to consider telling Sam and Tucker to run, however, a strange feeling courses through his veins like liquid energy. Just as it had happened at Sam’s house, Danny’s veins light up with a white-green glow. The energy seeps from his fingers and into the wood door, creeping through the fibres until they hit the paper wards that Sam and Tucker hold tight. The symbols on the wards light up with the same energy leaking from Danny’s hands.

Then, in the blink of an eye, there’s an odd, otherworldly noise, the Flesh Eater howls in rage and terror, and a bright flash of light blinds them momentarily before all is silent once more. 

Even so, Danny, Sam, and Tucker still press the door shut for a minute or so more before shakily backing away. The papers that the wards had been drawn on have disappeared into thin air, but the symbols Danny had drawn on them are now burned into the shed door, flickering with a faint silver glow. The three of them stare in disbelief at the door.

“We… we did it,” Tucker finally breathes, and as if a spell is broken, the three of them collapse backwards into the wet grass.

Sam rubs at her face with a groan. “Please tell me this is a one-time thing.”

“I wish it was,” Danny replies as the tingling energy recedes and he feels like himself again. 

“You know,” Tucker says then, knocking his closed fist lightly against Danny’s shoulder, “you dealt with that shit like a pro. You don’t owe us anything at the Nasty Burger.”

Danny lets out a pathetic huff of laughter, “If you say so. But I could  _ really _ go for a coffee and an unholy number of pancakes right now. Think we can make it there in time to beat the lunch rush?”

Sam checks her watch. “It’s only nine. If we go now, we’ll be good.”

They lie there on the chilly grass for a few minutes longer, waiting for their racing hearts to slow and their adrenaline to slip away enough for them to get out of the anxiety danger zone. As Danny sits up, he feels Sidney and Alvin’s presence prodding tentatively at his head and glances over his shoulder to see them drawing near with relieved grins on their faces. Danny returns the expression.

**I’m impressed. You’re shaping up to be a proper action hero.** Alvin teases with a wink.

Sidney nods so fast his glasses fall from his face and Alvin has to catch them,  **She’s really gone!! You banished her to the spirit realm!**

Danny’s not sure how to take that, so he just gives them a curt nod in response. A sudden thought crosses his mind.

“Hey, Sam? Tucker?”

“Hm?”

“Yeah?”

Danny pulls the medical mask back up over his face and rises to his feet. “I’ll meet you guys at the Nasty Burger. I’ve just gotta do something first.”

* * *

Dale isn’t paid enough for this.

His weekends usually consist of long, boring day shifts and exhausting night shifts, and he’s seen a lot of crazy stuff in his thirty-some years of working dead-end jobs. But this?  _ This _ takes the damn  _ cake. _

Seeing some absolutely feral teenager hidden under layers and layers of clothes obviously meant to hide his identity, legs glowing greenish-white, come tearing out of the supposedly empty school was a shock. Having a massive, shadowy silhouette of some monstrous creature destroy his floor scrubber and inadvertently trapping him under its heavy remains is absolutely unbelievable. Except that it actually happened. 

He’s still trapped under the destroyed floor scrubber, shoving hopelessly at twisted fibreglass and metal. Curse his refusal to use that gym membership!

Dale’s almost at the point of giving up and hoping some kind passerby notices the school’s gaping door, when there’s the sound of frosted grass crunching under slowly approaching feet. He wants to call out… but something keeps his mouth shut. Call it a hunch, but whatever’s coming closer seems to give off an ominous, otherworldly energy not unlike that which the shadow beast had given off. So he stays silent.

Then the stranger steps through the dented steel doors, navigating gingerly around the shattered glass from the windows. It’s the boy who’d somehow gotten into the school! Dale still doesn’t say anything, merely glaring at the kid with distrust.

The boy, however, raises his head to look at the man with wide blue eyes that glow when the dim light in the hallway hits his face. “Oh, thank God. You’re not dead.”

Even then, Dale keeps his lips pursed as the strange boy giving off that equally strange energy approaches. He stops in front of the floor scrubber pinning him to the floor, inspecting it for a second before meeting Dale’s eyes worriedly. “Are you okay?”

Finally, Dale responds with a grunt, “D’you think I’m alright?”

“I mean, are you seriously hurt?”

Dale shifts his legs at the slightly snarky retort and winces at the pain, but seeing as they do still move, he’s not in need of an ambulance. He lets out a short, dismissive grunt. The kid seems to understand, letting out an exasperated sigh before grabbing part of the destroyed scrubber and tugging it away.

This goes on for a few more minutes, during which Dale gives himself adequate time to puzzle over the strange boy.

He’s a scrawny, lanky teenager, no different from the average student at this school. He acts like one, talks like one, and to be honest, Dale would consider him to actually  _ be _ a normal teenager. That is, if not for the way his eyes reflect light like those of a wild animal and the weird, unnamed air that seems to hover around him like a bubble.

This is neither a human nor a monster. This is something halfway between.

“There. You’re free now.” The boy sighs as he drags the last heavy chunk away and drops it on the gouged linoleum. 

Dale blinks rapidly to bring himself back to the present. When he’s aware of his surroundings once more, he glances down and moves his legs, ensuring that they really are alright. They move just fine, albeit with quite a bit of soreness, but other than that he’s perfectly fine. The boy offers a hand to help him up, but the janitor narrows his eyes and refuses in favor of using the wall to get back on his feet. 

There’s no way in hell he’s going to trust this…  _ enigma… _ without adequate reason.

Sure, he helped get Dale out from under the wreckage, but that could be a means of lowering his guard. He could strike at any moment--

“Well, uh, I guess I’ll be going now,” The boy says, wringing his fingers and turning to leave, “Oh, I know you probably won’t listen to me, but if you could keep this whole thing a secret or make up a story about the messed up scrubber and floors, that’d be great. I’m just figuring this whole thing out, y’know?”

Before Dale even has time to shoot back a reply, the boy’s gone back out the doors. He’s left standing alone in the wrecked back entrance of Casper High, speechless and surrounded by glass and twisted metal. After he takes a minute or two to regain his composure, he reaches a shaking hand into his back pocket.

His phone screen is cracked something fierce, but it still works enough for him to make a call.

_ “Amity Park Police Department.” _

Dale lets out a breath, then speaks in a low tone, “I’m a janitor at Casper High, and I have an incident to report.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally frickin slaved over the illustrations for this chapter dude. The first one took about 6 hours and the second one took about... eight to ten hours over two and a half days?? Too much time. Oh wELL.
> 
> I should probably link my social media here as well. Here are the other places you can find me!!
> 
> [My Tumblr](https://hitamory.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [My Twitter](https://twitter.com/hitamory)
> 
> [My DeviantArt](https://www.deviantart.com/hitamory)
> 
> A huge thanks to [Aster](https://fingerspellingtopassthetime.tumblr.com/) for betareading this chapter!! <3


	7. out of your depth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I CAN'T BELIEVE IT BUT I ACTUALLY RECEIVED FANART FOR THIS FIC AND I'M LOSING MY MIND!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!!
> 
>  
> 
> [By Awalayn!](https://twitter.com/awalayn/status/1151288603730948096)
> 
>  
> 
> [By Sebl76!](https://www.instagram.com/p/Bz9Yj21Bt2Q/)
> 
>  
> 
> I CRIED OVER THESE PIECES AND I AM ABSOLUTELY IN LOVE W THEM!!!

Danny’s been avoiding the lab.

He’ll admit it outright-- he’s been doing his best to keep out of that sterile, eerie room with the heavy stink of incense hanging in the air and the drafts that sweep though it and rustle the paper Wards. After all, he literally  _ died _ in there. It makes sense he’d be avoiding it.

Today, however, is different. 

It’s Sunday, which for most families marks a lazy day of rest before it’s back to the daily grind at work and school. In the Fenton house, however, it’s nearly indistinguishable from any other day. The only thing that’s different is that the lab is even more active than normal, and you can sometimes smell sage and incense from the living room. The reason? Spirits apparently ‘grow more active’ on Sundays. Something to do with Christianity or Catholicism and how it ties to Paganism or whatever. Danny really can’t be arsed to care.

Sam’s gone with her family to whatever church function they’re dragging her to, and Tucker’s busy, so Danny’s got nothing better to do than roam the house and stay inside doing research on ghosts and spirits. Which is why, after wolfing down a bowl of Cheerios, he’s standing at the top of the stairs that lead to the basement. 

Every fibre of his being is screaming at him to turn around and never go back into the lab again, but he needs to test something. Something that could give him an edge in his new spirit-whacking career. 

His logic is flawed, he knows, but he’s only ever interacted with his parents’ inventions when he was fully human. Now that he’s a Halfa, maybe he can mess around with a few things and see if they work. With a deep breath, he wrings his fingers at his sides and starts down the stainless steel steps.

The further down he goes, the stronger the smell of sage gets, and he coughs as it floods into his lungs. Behind him, Alvin and Sidney let out exclamations of surprise. Danny pauses, glancing over his shoulder at his friends. 

To his surprise, their exposed skin is marred by what look like blotchy, flickering burns. A jolt of alarm shoots through him and he immediately goes back up the stairs to check them over. “What’s happening? You guys okay??”

Alvin rubs ruefully at a bubbling abrasion on his forearm.  **It’s the sage. Burning sage is a deterrent, kinda like toned-down napalm.**

Sidney nods.  **We’re just plain ol’ ghosts, so we’re the most affected by it. You’ll probably be fine, though! You’re a Halfa; Halfas don’t follow the rules of humans** **_or_ ** **spirits!**

Danny stares at them for a few moments, contemplating whether or not he should just head upstairs and go right back to bed. Unfortunately though, his curiosity wins out over his skepticism and he rubs at his eyes with a groan. “Okay. Okay. I’ll check it out. You guys… I don’t know, go hang out in my room or something--”

“Danny? Who are you talking to?” a voice interrupts, making Danny flinch. 

Behind Alvin and Sidney, Jazz appears at the top of the stairs in her work uniform. She has one eyebrow cocked and is looking at Danny as if he’s speaking a foreign language. Which he sort of is. He stares at her through the shimmering forms of his ghost friends, trying his hardest to plaster a smile on his face and not let his eyes flicker off to the side suspiciously.

“Nobody?”

Jazz blinks at him, unconvinced. “You were definitely talking to someone. Are your friends here?”

In a brief moment of stupidity, Danny almost says ‘yes’, but thankfully he catches himself and shrugs with a noncommittal hum. “Nope. You must be hearing things.”

“I’m not hearing things,” Jazz persists, now with a suspicious look on her face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m  _ fine, _ Jazz!” he snaps then, his anger momentarily getting the best of him. 

She doesn’t reply, which is odd. Usually when he gets snarky with her, she scolds him for it and turns to leave while muttering about ‘little brothers and their sass’ and whatnot. Now, though, she just watches him with a calculating, curious look in her eyes. It’s the same look she gets when she’s absorbed in research, like she’s studying him, boring holes through him directly into his soul and rending him open, all his thoughts and secrets on full display.

After what could’ve been a second or a year, Jazz blinks and lets out a sigh. Her eyes betray nothing, but a sympathetic smile ghosts across her face. “Sorry for being nosy, I know how much you hate that. I’m just worried, you know?”

The tension in Danny’s chest loosens enough for his defensiveness to fade away. “Y-yeah. I know.”

“I’ve gotta go now so I don’t run late, but just remember: you can talk to me about anything. I’m good at keeping secrets.” 

A sense of deja vu hits Danny when she says that, and his mind momentarily flits back to the night many years ago when he tiptoed into her room and whispered something to her that’d marked a huge positive milestone in his life. Before he can get too lost in his thoughts, however, he blinks them away and nods with a small yet genuine smile at his sister. “I know. Thanks, Jazz.”

“No problem, little brother.” She chuckles before turning and vanishing out of sight.

 He stands there and stares off in the direction she’d gone for a few seconds, which probably earns him a few weird looks from his ghostly companions, but he doesn’t really care. What he does care about is that… maybe… just  _ maybe… _

Before he can humor the idea of opening up about his new inhuman abilities, an image of his parents overhearing him confessing to Jazz makes itself at home in his head. He clearly hears their horror, their anger, their gleeful boasting echoes in his head--  _ ‘When we catch a paranormal entity, what should we do with it?’ ‘Oh, we’ll study it, of course! I wonder how its internal organ structure differs from a human’s?’ ‘We’ll be able to test our new weaponry on it and finally rid the world of all things paranormal!’ ‘I can’t wait to test the extent of its healing abilities!’-- _ and panic forces its way up his throat. He barely manages to hold himself together, and is pretty sure he’s going to have a complete meltdown when the combined gentle auras of Sidney and Alvin seep into his skin.

In nearly an instant, his racing heart relaxes, his tremors still, and his breathing returns to a normal rate. He takes a deep breath through his nose, holds it for a handful of seconds, then lets it out slowly through his mouth. 

When he’s sure he’s in a safe state of mind, he shoots a grateful look at Sidney and Alvin. Their relief is evident on their faces as he whispers a quiet, “Thank you.”

**No big deal, kid. We’re here for you.**

With their energy pulsing through his veins like soothing rays of afternoon sunlight, he turns and continues descending into his parents’ basement. 

The further he goes, the stronger the pungent stink of sage gets, and the more sick Danny starts feeling. Not sick in the ‘I’m gonna puke’ sense, but more of an achy, head cold-ish feeling that leaves his head throbbing and his mind hazy. Even so, he pushes himself further until he reaches the lab.

It’s the cleanest he’s ever seen it, he’s certain of that. 

Except that a few things are different from how it looked before the accident, and Danny’s not quite sure how to feel about these changes. On one hand, there’s now a fingerprint scanner next to the portal doors instead of a big lever, which Danny’s thankful for. But on the other… 

...his parents appear to have moved some things around and made space for a sterile metal examination table, a glass chamber of sorts where they probably plan to perform experiments on whatever unlucky spirit or ghost they happen to catch, and sage burns in lantern-like fixtures on the walls. Danny covers his mouth as a series of harsh, hacking coughs rip through him. It kind of reminds him of the time he got strep throat in middle school. Not a nice memory.

“Oh, Danny!” A sudden, cheery voice calls from the other side of the glass chamber, and Mom pokes her head around it with a grin, “I thought you’d be out with your friends today!”

Danny’s voice is hoarse as he replies, “They’re busy today. Um… what are you doing?”

Mom blinks as if surprised by the fact that he’s actually interested in their work. Then, she skips out from behind the chamber and approaches to take him by the hand and pull him towards it. For a few moments, blind terror threatens to choke him into submission--  _ she knows, she’s gonna throw me in the tube, this is bad, this is bad, bad, BAD-- _ but when she lets him go, he mentally berates himself for freaking out. Of course she doesn’t know, there’s no bloody way she could’ve figured anything out! 

“Your father’s gone out for more supplies, but in the meantime I made… this!” Mom exclaims at the same time she grabs a device from a new workbench and holds it up triumphantly.

Thankfully, Danny doesn’t need to ask what it does. She’s already chattering on and on and on, but this time, Danny actually pays attention. This thing could be of some use someday, maybe. Or it could be a horrible thing that he should avoid like the plague. 

“I call it the Fenton Spirit Staff! It’s a lightweight weapon constructed mainly of carbon fibre, but wrapped in a thin coating of iron and laced with silver. And if our theories are correct, iron should burn most paranormal entities, and silver should burn any paranormal entity with malicious intentions. Isn’t it cool?!” Mom explains at a wildly intense speed, turning the weapon around like some kind of infomercial product.

It looks pretty plain, Danny has to say. It’s a small, silver rod with the Fentonworks logo engraved into the body of it and brilliant green highlights, but other than that, it looks like those silly toy lightsabers you can buy anywhere. It’s no big surprise that Danny doesn’t really feel like taking the thing seriously. 

“It looks... “ Danny trails off before asking, “...does it work?”

Mom giggles excitedly. “I have no idea! I’ll let you know the moment I find something to test it on!!”

_ I guess the person to answer that question is gonna be me. Yay. _

“I…” Danny begins, but is cut off when Mom’s phone goes off loudly in her pocket.

She shoots Danny an apologetic grin before pulling her phone out, looking at the screen, then murmuring, “Sorry hon, I need to take this. I’ll be back in a minute or five!”

Danny doesn’t even have a chance to reply before she races to the stairs and the clunking of her boots fades away. So now he’s alone in the lab.

Wonderful.

He takes a deep breath, coughs aggressively at the acrid sage filling his nose and throat, and approaches the workbench where Mom had tossed the Fenton Spirit Staff. For a time, he just stares at it without moving, just watching it like one would watch a nest of hornets. He wants to go back upstairs-- which should be obvious by now-- but with a reluctant groan, he steels himself, clenches his jaw, and reaches out to grab the rubber-coated handle. 

Nothing happens. 

He lets out an anxious breath he didn’t know he was holding before gently turning it over in his hands to look at it more closely. He pokes it experimentally to see what happens, but nothing does. Not when he touches the shiny green caps on either end of it, not when he shakes it, and not even when he brings it up to push it against his cheek in the hopes that something,  _ anything _ will happen. Nothing does.

“Stupid thing...?!” Danny hisses sourly at the same moment he sweeps his thumb over the Fentonworks logo.

With a hiss of compressed air and the high-pitched whirring of a small motor, the Fenton Spirit Staff vibrates wildly in Danny’s hands. In a panic, he drops it and jumps back a few steps, which probably was the best reaction to the weapon’s sudden activation; the green caps retract with a hum, and the Spirit Staff jumps as it extends to a long, silver rod banded with shimmering ribbons of actual silver and the green joints connecting the rod’s segments together. 

Danny merely stands where he is for a few seconds, staring at the Spirit Staff warily, not sure whether or not it’ll just straight up come for him. When nothing happens, however, he slowly walks up and gingerly grabs it by the rubber handle. 

He almost has the urge to swing it around with wild abandon as he used to do with sticks on a playground as a child, but manages to suppress it. After all, he’s not a kid anymore. Heck, he isn’t really even human either… but that’s not important right now. Running a hand through his hair with a cocked eyebrow, he murmurs to himself, “I wonder if this thing’ll be useful in the long run.”

Out of curiosity, he reaches out to touch the last foot of the staff, where the surface seems to flicker with otherworldly energy when he looks at it hard enough. 

He immediately regrets it.

His fingertips barely brush the surface of the weapon, but the pain is immediate. His vision whites out, his breath catches in his throat, and it feels like his hand is  _ burning, melting, melting, falling off, burning, burning, burning, it HURTSITHURTSITHURTS-- _

Somehow, he manages to force his body to obey him through the paralyzing agony and yank his hand away. The staff clatters to the ground and rolls away to bump against the base of the glass chamber. Danny staggers backwards, chest heaving with gasps of panic as the pain starts slowly fading away.

Despite the slowly-vanishing pain, Danny doesn’t want to look. He  _ really  _ doesn’t want to see what’s become of his hand.

From upstairs, he hears Mom drawing close to the stairs. 

_ She heard me, she knows, she knows, she KNOWS I’M-- _

Danny panics. He shoves his wounded hand into the pocket of his hoodie-- despite the way it throbs when the burn brushes against the fabric-- and hunches his shoulders before power-walking up the stairs. Mom lets out a small exclamation of surprise as he brushes past her, but thankfully, she doesn’t try to stop him. Dad isn’t home yet either, and Jazz is long gone, so Danny’s hurried ascent to his room is unhindered. Thank God.

When he throws the door open, he’s vaguely aware of Sidney and Alvin looking at him in alarm, but he just slams it shut behind him and leans back against it. Danny reaches his good hand up to grasp at his hair in agitation as he slides down so he’s sitting on the floor with his knees drawn up. By now, the pain in his hand has subsided into something bearable and he lets out a shuddering breath. 

At some point, Alvin had come up to float before him and now places a reassuring hand on Danny’s shoulder. Sidney leans over with his head tilted to poke his face into Danny’s field of view. His brows are knitted together in concern, his nose scrunched ever so slightly.

**_What’s wrong, Danny? What happened?_ **

**Hey, hey, Danny, take a breath--** Alvin begins, but his aura flares with the tang of alarm when he sees the injury.  **_Oh jeez, Danny, what did you do?_ **

“I-- nothing,” Danny says in a small voice that makes him feel incredibly pathetic. “Just touched one of my parents’ inventions. I-I… I didn’t think it would…”

Alvin watches him with an unreadable expression for a minute before running a hand through his hair and letting out an imitation of a sigh. With careful hands, he grasps Danny by the shoulders and wraps him in a hug.

It’s a strange feeling, getting a hug from a ghost. Alvin’s arms feel like… well, like actual  _ arms,  _ except that they’re way too cold to be a living human and no pulse jumps beneath the skin. Where the edges of Alvin’s form phase through Danny’s skin, he feels an odd tingle, kind of like hot water on cold hands, but more muted.

After the initial shock, Danny shakily reaches his uninjured hand up to return the hug. Alvin begins speaking in a soft tone then, little more than a gentle rumble in Danny’s head. 

**Take it easy, alright? It’s okay, bud. You’re okay.** There’s a pause, and he backs up to look Danny in the face.  **Did your parents see anything?**

“I… don’t know, that’s what I was freaking out about.” Danny replies.

Alvin takes a moment, seeming to consider something. After a minute or so, he gives Danny’s shoulders a reassuring squeeze and smiles,  **How about I go eavesdrop on your mother and find an answer to that question?**

“You don’t have to, I can deal with it--” Danny begins, but Alvin gives him a grin that can only be called ‘shit-eating’ and waves emphatically.

**Be back in a flash, kiddo! Sidney, watch the kid!** He chirps obnoxiously before phasing through the wall and vanishing. 

Danny scrambles to his feet with a choked, “ _ Alvin, wait--!” _ but the ghost is already gone. 

A silence falls over the room for a few heartbeats before Sidney snickers, making Danny shoot him a confused look. “What are you laughing at?”

**He basically told me to babysit you.** **_Gosh,_ ** **that’s** **_hilarious!_ **

“I don’t need you to babysit me, you’re younger than me!” Danny snaps adamantly before catching himself, but Sidney’s grinning with his braces on full display and hovering in a casual seated position a few feet above him.

**I saw the Disney Alice in Wonderland in the cinema the day it released in 1951. I’m older than you by a** **_loooooong_ ** **time!**

“That-” Danny stammers, “-that doesn’t count! You were only alive for… what, 14 years?”

Sidney sticks his tongue out.  **It does count!**

He narrowly dodges Danny’s hand as he swipes at him, laughing brightly. Danny fights the urge to keep a smile off his face, but his efforts are futile and he ends up having to stifle laughter as he throws a dirty sock at the ghost. Sidney, being used to having things phase through him, doesn’t move out of the way and takes a sweaty sock to the face. 

As Sidney shrieks in disgust, Danny finds the last dregs of his earlier terror seeping out of him and leaving his thoughts clear and light. 

* * *

Alvin hears Sidney and Danny arguing from where he hovers a few feet off the floor, just outside the Halfa boy’s bedroom. He’s positive that Sidney knows he’s here, at least, but Danny’s still too inexperienced with the second plane to properly detect Alvin just outside the door. He’s thankful for that; he won’t be caught eavesdropping. 

Once the two boys lapse into a lighter mindset, Alvin makes his way down the hall the way he would have if he were still, well, alive. It’s been many years since he’s had proper legs to walk around on, but he still longs for the grounding feeling of his own weight with every step. He sighs, despite the fact that he doesn’t need to breathe. 

In a way, he envies Danny. 

Not because of the horrible pressures and prejudice he’ll now be forced to deal with as a Halfa, but rather his ability to see and traverse all the planes of existence. He can befriend the living and the dead, which is more than Alvin can say of himself. He pushes those thoughts out of his head, reaching up to run a hand through his wavy hair. 

As he switches trains of thought, though, his mind wanders back to Danny’s little breakdown a few minutes earlier and Alvin winces. 

_ I was way out of line, hugging the kid like that. What was I thinking? _

He wants to slap himself in the face, but before he can do or think anything else, an old, foggy memory flickers to the forefront of his head and makes him pause where he is--

_ \--brother, younger brother, name… name, name, what was his name…? School, after school, bullies, bullied… brother crying… blond hair, grey eyes like mine-- _

**_“Alvin, why are the kids at school so mean?”_ **

_...walking, walking, kneeling in front of him, hugging him, comforting him, I’ll protect you, I’ll… _

**_“They just are, ************, but I can beat ‘em up. They’ll leave ya alone, I’ll show ‘em!”_ **

\--Alvin shakes his head to clear it, eyes narrowing in confusion. 

It’s not like he doesn’t remember his life before death, in fact, he remembers it in great detail, but not quite like how humans see things in their memories. Ghosts are driven by attachments. Emotions. Feelings. The visual parts of his memory are foggy, but the feelings from those memories remain and might as well be visual with how strong and visceral they are. 

Even so, he doesn’t remember this. Alvin remembers his younger brother, but this specific memory has him at a loss. 

This has been happening a lot lately, which is strange and a little off-putting. But Alvin isn’t an idiot, and knows exactly why this is. 

Alvin hasn’t encountered many kids since he’s died, as most kids just pass on straight away. Having the chance to interact with Danny has made him feel like an older brother again. He knows this is a silly attachment, the kid looks  _ nothing _ like his own brother, but good God, he can’t help worrying over him to the point his stomach churns. Hell, he doesn’t even  _ have _ a stomach or the ability to get nauseous, but Danny’s predisposition to stumbling face-first into danger is going to give Alvin an ulcer. 

He shoves those thoughts away forcefully again, continuing on his journey to the lab in the basement. 

The burning sage still leaves nasty marks on his skin that feel like rashes, but he’s had encounters with anti-ghost measures over the course of forty-plus years and this is nothing. Alvin steels himself, preparing for the itchy, aching sage burns, and descends.

When he enters the lab, he can still feel the overwhelming presence of death and spiritual energy left over from the accident that killed Danny. It’s stifling in the way a humid summer day is stifling; harmless, but too heavy to ignore. The emotions that remain in the room, however, are so strong they’re painful-- fear, panic, paranoia, anger, despair, grief-- and Alvin has to fight to keep the lingering emotions from influencing his own Essence.

Thankfully, the person he’s looking for isn’t hard to find. 

Maddie Fenton is inspecting some odd looking tool shaped like a bo staff, humming to herself. As Alvin watches, she waves it through the air with a thoughtful look on her face. “Odd. The spiritual energy readings in the lab are off the charts! A spirit must have followed Danny in here…”

_ I guess she hasn’t figured out her son’s a Halfa yet. Good. _

Alvin’s just turning to leave when a rapid beeping sound begins echoing around the room. He stiffens, wondering with a jolt of alarm if his presence tripped one of the Fentons’ inventions. When Maddie pulls a ringing cellphone out of her pocket, though, Alvin feels himself relax. 

“Hello, Maddie Fenton of FentonWorks here!” she exclaims cheerily into her cellphone, “What can we do for you today?”

He’s not sure what compels him to do it, it’s completely stupid and risky, but… Alvin turns and approaches Maddie. He’s careful about it, wary of any devices that might go off in response to his Essence and vaporize him on the spot, but his curiosity is stronger than his nerves and he keeps moving forward.

He only draws close enough to hear the voice on the other end of the phone.

“ _ Hello there, Mrs.Fenton. I’m part of a government-funded organization specializing in the supernatural, and I recently received a call about an incident in your city.”  _

Maddie stiffens, eyes narrowing, “What incident? I haven’t heard anything about this. What happened? Where?”

Alvin knows what incident this government bonehead is referring to, and he  _ really  _ doesn’t like where this is going.

_ “The Amity Park police responded to a call from a janitor at Casper High School yesterday morning, and there’s overwhelming evidence of paranormal activity present at the scene. The police were unsure of how to investigate, so my organization was contacted. We will be conducting an investigation at the school tomorrow morning at 0700 hours. If you and your husband could join us to find the cause of the damage, that would be greatly appreciated.” _

Maddie’s face brightens. “Oh, of course we’ll be there! We specialize in the supernatural, so we’ll always jump at an opportunity to share our expertise!”

_ “I’m glad to hear it. Thank you for your assistance.” _

“Not a problem at all! Thank you for calling, Mister…?”

_ “Walker.” _

Alvin feels his entire body grow cold at that name. He’s heard it in the whisperings of spirits and ghosts alike, and he knows that the presence of the man can only mean bad things for the paranormal inhabitants of Amity Park.

“Well, Walker, I look forward to meeting and working with you,” Maddie says before she and Walker exchange goodbyes and hang up. 

Alvin doesn’t stick around any longer than that. He rockets up the stairs, not wanting to waste a single second.

If Walker is coming, he needs to warn Sidney and Danny. There’s no way he’s leaving them unprepared in a situation this volatile.

* * *

“You okay, Danny? You’re like…  _ super _ tense, man.” Tucker asks on their walk to school the following morning.

Danny drags a hand down his face, muttering, “Yeah, I’m tense. I mean, the Grim Reaper of supernatural creatures is at my school and  _ I might be walking to my death right now!” _

Ever since receiving Alvin’s warning last night, Danny’s heart has been racing, rabbiting against his ribs in a way that would probably send any normal human to a hospital. He could barely sleep because of his nerves, so in addition to the anxiety making his hands shake, he’s sleep-deprived. Fantastic.

“He’s just trying to be sympathetic, you know,” Sam interjects with a stern yet understanding look at Danny. “You don’t have to snap at him for being worried about you.”

With a sigh, he nods and drags his fingers through his hair in distress. “Yeah. Yeah, I know. Sorry, Tuck.”

“No sweat, dude. I getcha.”

“I just... I know I’m already d-- not really ‘alive’ anymore, but the thought of dying freaks me out. And if Alvin is right, this Walker guy is  _ really bad news.” _

Sam hums in agreement. “Yeah, from what you said, he’s a mega-douche. But he’ll only target you if you give him a reason to suspect you, right? So just go about your school day like normal. Sleep through Lancer’s class, go into an exhaustion coma in PE, choke down whatever crap’s in the cafeteria today, run from Dash, rinse, repeat, no big deal. We’ll just lay low until the G-Man and friends leave town.”

“What if they don’t leave town?” Danny quips, fighting the urge to bite at his fingernails, “What if the shit we did is enough paranormal evidence that they stay?”

“Well, I guess you could always buy a mask and onesie and become Amity Park’s friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man. But, like, dead. And with the ability to banish monsters to the Shadow Realm,” Tucker suggests with a shrug of his shoulders and a mischievous grin.

It’s a slightly tempting thought-- Danny’s always liked superheroes-- but even with his weird new abilities, he’s still just… Danny Fenton. The painfully average kid of the eccentric cryptid-hunting family in that weird house down the block. He heaves a sigh as they cross the street and approach the school. “I dunno, Tuck, that sorta thing isn’t really me.”

“It  _ could _ be you if you wanted!!” Tucker insists, “We’ll make some basic hero getup from what we find at the thrift store, make you a mask, and boom! You’re a superhero!”

“There’s more to it than that--” Danny tries, but Tucker’s on a train going off its rails.

“What would your alias be?? Ooh, maybe something playing off cryptids… call yourself Mothman!! You have glowy eyes, just wear a cloak and hood and people will come from all over the world to see the  _ actual _ Mothman!  _ Beat THAT, West Virginia!! Point Pleasant ain’t got NOTHING on Amity Park!!” _

“Tucker, you’re getting  _ way _ the hell off-topic here,” Sam points out, and that seems to pull Tucker out of his tangent. 

He straightens up, adjusting his glasses with a sheepish grin. “Sorry, I got ahead of myself there, huh? But you should really think about it!”

“I… guess I can think about it a bit.” Danny concedes reluctantly. 

Just before they reach the school’s front doors, an odd sensation grabs Danny by the chest and  _ pulls _ , making him choke on his breath and stop. Hardly a second later, the door opens and a man steps out with a mildly surprised look at Danny and his friends. 

Some primal instinct is yanking Danny from side to side, telling him to run in the opposite direction while also growling at him to  _ fight, fight, FIGHT!! _ An odd feeling rumbles in his throat, but he coughs to hide it and looks up at the man towering over them.

He’s a good six-foot-five at least, with a strong jaw, ghastly pale skin, and piercing green eyes that seem to burn holes right through Danny’s head. Greying hair buzzed short pokes out from beneath a wide-brimmed black hat, and not a single bit of stubble is left on his face. His clothes are pristine white, without even a slight blemish, and polished black boots reflect the dull light of the autumn sun. 

“S-sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to almost bump into you,” Danny apologizes, dropping his gaze to the man’s boots and trying as hard as he can to just fall right through the ground into Earth’s core.

An uncomfortable pause follows his apology, but eventually, the man speaks in a deep voice accentuated by a vague Southern accent. “It ain’t a problem, son. You’d better hurry on to class before you’re late. Bein’ late’s against the rules.”

Danny swallows back his fear and forces himself to look up at the man in white with a nervous grin he hopes comes off as more awkward than anything else. “Y-yeah, we will.”

The man steps aside, and Danny leads the way inside quickly, but not quickly enough to make him suspicious. As soon as the door bangs shut behind them, separating them comfortably enough from the man, Danny lets out a shaky breath and rubs at his eyes. 

The man wasn’t wearing a nametag and didn’t introduce himself, but Danny knows damn well who the guy was. The dangerous air he gave off was evidence enough.

“Danny, was that…?” Sam begins, but doesn’t need to finish because Danny’s already nodding.

“Yeah,” he swallows hard, “that’s Walker.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out!! I lost my job due to my mental health so I've been desperately drawing like mad to try getting enough commission money to buy medication and pay rent ; v ; 
> 
> Yes Walker is a human in this AU, he's affiliated with the GiW but mostly works alone. He's got a few more secrets that you'll have to wait and figure out! :D
> 
> Also the weaknesses of spirits and ghosts in this au are based off traditional ghost deterrents as well as fae weaknesses!
> 
> Find me here!!
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> And a huge thank you to [Aster](https://fingerspellingtopassthetime.tumblr.com/) for putting up with my shit and always beta-reading my stuff!! <3


	8. seize

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, googling 'fifties slang' and crying: HOW DO I MAKE SIDNEY **NOT** SOUND LIKE A GODDAMN MILLENIAL
> 
> Also: Hi there! Sorry this chapter took so long, I was hella busy :'D it's all good now though, and I hope you guys like it!!

Halfway through first period, Danny excuses himself from Lancer’s class, saying he wasn’t feeling well and needed to use the bathroom. He’d been acutely aware of everyone’s eyes locking onto him, but none more menacing than Dash. Thankfully, Lancer had been merciful and let him leave with a sympathetic look on his face; he’d probably assumed it had something to do with the accident and some lingering effects from the injury that had sent him to the hospital. Danny almost feels guilty for his teacher’s sympathy, but pushes it out of his head and focuses on what he’s really doing in the bathroom.

Which is, meeting with Sidney.

The ghost sits on the counter in the boys’ room, watching Danny as he paces anxiously back and forth in front of him. He’s chewing his nails, trying to figure out his words, but he really, really doesn’t know how to put the whole situation into words. 

Finally, Sidney adjusts his glasses and says,  **You said you wanted to meet me here. Are you just gonna… make me stare at you having a meltdown? Or…**

With a groan of exasperation, Danny drags his clammy hands through his hair and replies, “I don’t know what to do.”

**About what?**

“About the old white guy with the whole ‘I eat babies and laugh about it’ energy he’s giving off!” he hisses, barely managing to keep his voice low. “I can’t focus in class when I can literally  _ feel  _ where he's at every second of the day!”

It’s true, and a really, really unwelcome surprise. He’s not sure if it’s just a Walker-exclusive feature, or if Walker is the source, but since that close encounter at the front doors, he’s been able to ‘feel’ things. Like a chill in Sidney’s direction and a clear image in his head of where the friendly ghost is. Walker, though… well, he’s been giving off a feeling like crackling energy, burning at Danny’s skin and fingertips like static shock; and of course, he can see in his mind exactly where the man is. Which is exactly the reason he can’t focus in class.

Sidney holds up his hands in mock surrender.  **Hey, you don’t hafta get upset at me. I’m just tryin’ to help.**

“Yeah. You’re right. I’m sorry,” Danny admits with a sigh. “I’m just freaked out.”

**Yeah.**

For a few moments, a silence hangs heavy between them. After a time, Sidney opens his mouth to say something, but the boys’ bathroom door bangs open and makes both boy and ghost flinch and whirl around to look.

Once again, the gods seem to be dead-set on throwing Danny to the wolves, because Dash Baxter stands imposingly in the doorway.

The quarterback stalks into the room, letting the bathroom door swing shut behind him before drawing nearer like a starving predator. “Hey Fen _ turd.” _

As his most relentless bully approaches him, however, Danny comes to realize something peculiar.

Before the accident, Danny knows he’d be staggering back, gasping for air, eyes darting around in a desperate search for an escape route. Now, while he’s still anxious about being very clearly targeted by Dash, he doesn’t feel the same primal fear he used to when faced by the much more imposing student. And Dash notices this.

His eyes burn with disdain and he stomps closer, grabbing Danny by the collar of his favorite t-shirt and lifting him from the floor to slam his back against the grimy tile wall. Even now, he doesn’t struggle against the bully’s grasp aside from wrapping his hands around his arm to make sure he can breathe. Shoving his face right in Danny’s, close enough that Danny can smell protein powder on his breath, Dash hisses, “You’ve got a lotta nerve, coming back here like nothing happened after you supposedly ended up in the hospital. What  _ really  _ happened, huh? You chicken out because I said I’d beat the shit out of you on Monday?”

“I…” Danny begins, floundering for something to say, “...wait, you really think I’d make up a lie like ending up in the hospital  _ just _ to get away from you?” In spite of himself, Danny feels a huff of laughter leave him. “Jeez, you’re giving yourself a lot of credit.”

“What did you just say?!” Dash growls, slamming him roughly against the wall again. 

With a vaguely-quavering voice, Danny flatly says, “I really was in the hospital. You can ask Lancer for proof if you really need--”

“Lancer believes your little  _ lie,  _ he had me promise to leave you alone since you ‘almost died’. But I know the truth.”

“Damn, you know the truth?” Danny says in an exaggerated tone before he can stop it, “So you know about the dead people and multi-dimensional eldritch horrors?”

Sidney wheeze-laughs. Dash does not. 

Face growing redder and redder with rage, Dash grinds his teeth. Danny knows now that he’s most certainly stepped over the line and unless something absolutely miraculous happens in the next 20 seconds, Danny’s probably gonna lose some teeth. Of course, with his new regenerative abilities, they’d probably grow back… but he’d rather not lose teeth in the first place.

As he’s contemplating what to do, Sidney suddenly grabs the nearest bathroom stall door and slams it shut as hard as he can. The bang echoes around the room loud enough to make Danny’s ears ring and Dash’s head snaps around to stare at the offending door. When he sees nobody there, he lets out an angry huff. 

“I dunno what you’re playing at,  _ Fenton, _ but you’re  _ really _ asking for it.”

Before he can turn back around to look at Danny though, Sidney stretches his arms out, grabs two doors, and bangs them rapidly open and closed for a few seconds. The red in Dash’s face completely washes out.

“What the--?” Dash splutters before dropping Danny and staring at him. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“The  _ stall doors, Fenton!!” _

Danny blinks in mock confusion, eyes flickering to the bathroom stalls. “What about the stall doors?”

“Cut the  _ shit!!  _ Something moved them!!”

Sidney’s hysterical laughter rings in Danny’s head like a bell, and he has to fight to keep a grin off his own face. “I didn’t see anything…?”

More colour drains from Dash’s face, and Danny can see that playing dumb is starting to crack Dash’s resolve. Excellent.

The jock in question stares between the stall doors and Danny with round, horrified eyes and a slack jaw, not making a single sound. After about a solid minute, he turns on his heel and quickly makes his way out the door with a hand pressed to the side of his head. Danny hears him mumble something about needing to lie down just before the bathroom door swings shut once more, leaving Danny and Sidney alone. 

Silence lasts for all of five seconds before Danny collapses back against the wall, laughing so hard his sides hurt. “Oh my  _ God,  _ that was  _ awesome!!” _

**_Did you see his face?! That was priceless!!_ **

“I am  _ so _ gonna do that to everyone from now on.” Danny laughs, wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his unzipped grey hoodie.

It takes awhile for their laughter to subside, leaving them giddy and breathless--  _ despite Sidney being a ghost-- _ but when it does, Danny runs his fingers through his hair and smiles at Sidney. “Guess I should be going back to class now, huh?”

**That might be a good idea,** Sidney replies, returning the smile.

Danny takes a quick look at his reflection in the mirror just to make sure he looks unruffled and at least remotely human, then heads for the bathroom door. Yet as he pushes it open, he nearly runs into none other than Walker, who once again fixates Danny with those soul-sucking green eyes. Sidney’s aura flares with alarm and darts a few feet away, but he doesn’t straight-up leave like Danny had been anticipating.

After a few terrifying moments of silence, a thin-lipped smile spreads across Walker’s face, which Danny now notices is littered with numerous pale scars. “Hello again, son.”

“H-hi…” Danny tentatively replies, more out of social obligation than anything else. 

“Shouldn’t you be in class? Seems like you’re tryin’ to bend the rules, kid.”

“Me? No, no, no, I just needed to use the… use the bathroom. Yeah,” he stammers in reply as something at Walker’s left hip glints in the school’s fluorescent light.

Danny’s eyes drift down and he feels his blood run cold when he sees the unmistakable shape of a holstered pistol. 

Maybe Danny has a death wish, or maybe his brain isn’t functioning properly, but before he can catch himself, he asks, “What’s that for?”

Walker blinks, then glances down at the gun. With a hum of amusement, he unclips the gun from its holster and holds it out in front of him for Danny to look at. 

At second glance, Danny can come to the conclusion that this isn’t just a normal old gun; this one is made of the same material as the Spirit Staff in the lab, and neon green symbols and trim glow with a slowly pulsating light. The symbols resemble the Wards that Danny’s become quite familiar with. A chill runs down his spine.

“I imagine it ain’t a surprise that I’m here to investigate the paranormal activity that occurred here this weekend. This here is a specially-manufactured gun that can tear into a creature’s very Essence, the non-human version of a soul,” Walker explains in a low, conspiratorial tone. “Though I doubt things like  _ them _ have any proper souls or emotions.”

Beside him, Danny feels Sidney’s aura pulse with something between anger and disdain, and Danny’s inclined to feel the same way. He keeps the distaste off his face, though, as he’d rather not risk making Walker suspicious. Instead, he looks back up at Walker and asks, “You don’t think that, ah, if the paranormal is a real thing… that maybe they’d have the same emotions we do?”

Walker barks out a harsh laugh, grinning with all his teeth bared like a snarling animal. His voice comes out in a sinister rumble, which once again causes that weird sensation to stir in Danny’s chest. “As someone who has personally worked with these sorts of creatures, I can assure you, they have no semblance of human emotion. They only exist to cause death, destruction, and suffering. They’re abominations.  _ Freaks. _ ”

That final word strikes Danny like a knife to the chest, making his stomach churn with anxiety, his palms leak with sweat, and his knees weaken. Even so, he doesn’t let any of that show on his face, instead blinking owlishly and humming before lowering his gaze with mock introspection. “Oh. Okay. I’ll keep that in mind, sir.”

“I should hope so,” he says as he reaches up to adjust his hat. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must be on my way to the office. I have matters to discuss with the faculty.”

“Yeah. And, uh, I guess I’ll be… heading back to class now. Yeah.”

The two of them turn to leave at the same time, Walker thankfully heading in the opposite direction as Danny power-walks as fast as he can back to class. As he turns a corner and slips out of Walker’s line of sight, Sidney darts through the nearest wall and hovers at Danny’s side with a worried look on his face.  **That was scary.**

“Tell me about it,” Danny groans, dragging a hand down his face. “I think my soul left my body.”

**I thought my Essence went ‘poof’ and disappeared! I know how you feel!**

Despite the fact that Danny can very clearly sense Walker a safe distance away, he casts a nervous glance back over his shoulder. Of course, he doesn’t see anything. With a heavy sigh, he looks ahead once more and murmurs, “Well, I guess he doesn’t really suspect me. I hope.”

**If you want, I can snoop around and see what bogus stuff he’s up to!**

“No, no, you shouldn’t do that. I don’t want ‘Mister Tall, Pale, and Creepy’ to catch on that there’s paranormal stuff going on here. That guy is  _ really _ bad news,” Danny protests, but once again to no avail.

Sidney’s already gone, his Essence growing further and further away, yet closer and closer to Walker. Danny groans in exasperation. “Not even  _ dead people _ listen to me.”

* * *

Since meeting Danny, Sidney’s felt more  _ real. _ Less like the lingering shadow of a long-dead loser, but like an actual living, feeling boy again! Albeit, he can do things a normal living boy can’t. Even so, he feels like he has a purpose again. He’s not helplessly watching dozens of kids being bullied to dangerous lengths anymore; now, he can actually  _ do _ something about it!

Which is why he was so ready to go spy on Walker and the faculty as soon as the idea popped into his head.

The past Sidney wouldn’t have even considered getting close to someone as feared as Walker. Heck, he’d probably have hightailed it to the next city over! Now, though? He considers the school his home, his lair, part of his Essence itself… and he’d be a damn fool to not confront the thing threatening the students he’s sworn to protect. Even if that student is just one person.

No, Sidney won’t back down here.

He effortlessly phases through the walls until he finds himself hovering in the office, surrounded by administrative staff going about their daily business. Sidney takes a few moments to make sure all’s well with the staff, then follows the feeling of Walker’s aura.

It’s an odd one, alright. It’s certainly a human’s aura, there’s no doubt about it… but it’s just hovering on the line between the first and second planes. Which means he’s much more perceptive to the paranormal than a regular human. Sidney’s incredibly curious about  _ that _ whole business, but he ignores it and flits through another wall into the principal’s office. 

Principal Ishiyama sits at her desk with Walker hovering over her shoulder like Death paying her a visit. It almost makes Sidney feel like he should do something to get him away from the principal, but he doesn’t act on it. That would be an  _ outrageously _ stupid idea.

At the principal’s other side are Jack and Maddie Fenton, sporting their brilliantly bright jumpsuits and staring intently at the screen of Principal Ishiyama’s computer. 

“As I mentioned beforehand, much of the security footage was corrupted. But this is the small clip we did manage to recover from the system.” she explains in a low voice, and Sidney can’t help but feel a thrill of fear at the thought that they have damning evidence of the culprit.

He floats past the group of adults, giving them a wide berth before settling himself comfortably behind Principal Ishiyama, and watches the screen.

When the video begins playing, static hisses across the screen and it lags a bit, catching on random frames of an empty hallway. The audio is distorted, making a crackling, whistling noise that grates on Sidney’s ears, but it quickly lowers into something bearable. Heartbeats later, a figure walks into view, but his form--  _ Danny’s _ form-- is distorted by multicoloured pixels, black spots, and skipping frames. He vanishes out of sight at the end of the hallway, but no more than ten seconds later, he comes tearing back down the hall at a dead sprint. 

Again, the video is clipping, distorted beyond recognition only where Danny appears on the screen. Behind him, papers and corkboards fly off the walls--  _ courtesy of Sidney himself-- _ and then, the shadowy afterimage of the Flesh Eater passes the camera in hot pursuit. 

Like a demon of the Underworld, her presence seems to distort the entire hallway in a manner akin to a Salvador Dali painting. Deep clawmarks gouge the tile floors, and a bellow like the wails of a dozen tormented souls rend through the laptop’s speakers. Before she exits the field of view, the audio devolves into a high-pitched whine and the entire image is choked with static. The video ends.

For a time, nobody says anything. 

It’s quite impressive footage, especially for a normal old human camera. Most CCTV and security cameras manufactured by humans are unable to record the supernatural at all without the data being corrupted beyond repair. It’s both astonishing and a bit worrying; if human tech evolves enough for everyday cameras to be unaffected by paranormal energy, then the existence of such creatures will be widely-known. Which will likely lead to a rise in ghost hunters and exorcists. Sidney shakes himself. 

_ Stop getting so worried over stuff that won’t happen for a long time, if it does happen at all!!  _ He chastises himself mentally at the same moment that Maddie Fenton begins speaking.

“It appears that two paranormal entities broke into the school on Saturday. Perhaps they were squabbling over territory or resources…” she murmurs, a hand pressed to her chin and brow furrowed. “...The humanoid one is odd, though. Shouldn’t he have been nearly invisible to the human eye?”

Walker grunts in response. “Could be a human possessed by a spirit, or something similar.”

“Like what? A demon?” Jack quips, leaning in over the principal’s shoulder to review the footage again.

“No. Demons and other dark entities tend to possess a human host in an erratic way that affects behavior, motor skills, and appearance. This could be an unusually powerful spirit,” Walker explains in a blunt, cold tone as he narrows his eyes at the screen again.

Maddie snaps her fingers with a sharp exclamation, catching the attention of the other three adults in the room. “Do you think it’s a more well-known entity? An urban legend of sorts?”

With a thoughtful look at Maddie, Walker slowly responds, “That could be a possibility--”

“It could be a Fae creature of some sort!!” Jack blurts out excitedly. “Ohh, I can’t  _ wait _ until we get to the bottom of this! Think of all the tests we can run!!”

His excitement seems to infect Maddie, whose fingers twitch as though she’s already imagining a scalpel in her hands, cutting open some unlucky supernatural creature. “We could advance human technology by leaps and bounds if we harnessed the power of the paranormal. Goodness, I can hardly wait!”

“I look forward to working with you,” Walker hums, a snakelike sneer spreading across his face as his inhumanly green eyes glint with bloodthirsty anticipation. “I hope our continued teamwork will lead to the fulfillment of your wishes.”

“No problem, my man!!” Jack says in his booming voice, slapping Walker heartily on the back. “While you do some more fancy investigation stuff around the ol’ shed, Maddie and me can get the Wards put in place!”

_ Wards…? _ Sidney thinks to himself with a spark of worry.  _ Are they setting up Wards around the school? _

“Excellent,” Walker says with a curt nod before stalking out of the office in silence.

Sidney glances anxiously from Jack and Maddie, to the door Walker had left through, and back again, wondering who on earth he should go after. Yet after a few moments of panic, he swallows hard and follows the ominous buzz of Walker’s aura. When he finds the man in the empty hallway, he’s almost at ease around the so-called ‘grim reaper’.

That is, until he stops and says in a hiss not unlike that of a snake, “ _ You’re lingering in the human world. That’s against the rules.” _

Sidney feels his Essence turn to ice, stopping dead where he floats in the middle of the hallway, and Walker glances over his shoulder with eerily-glowing eyes.  _ That _ throws Sidney for a loop, because no human has ever had glowing eyes; not even Danny’s eyes glow with that intensity. 

It hits him then.

Steeling himself, Sidney clenches his fists until his nails bite into his palms and glares at Walker above the frame of his glasses.  **You’re not a full human, are you?**

As Walker turns slowly around, his form flickers like a reflection on the surface of a lake, and his eyes glow solid green. “I ain’t met a ghost yet that figured it out . Doesn’t change the fact that you don’t belong here.”

**What** **_are_ ** **you?!** Sidney demands, that protective feeling filling him with liquid lightning and rattling the nearby display cases full of sports team trophies. 

Walker’s glance flicks to the side at the vibrating cases with vague curiosity. “You got no right to know, son. You ain’t even got the right to exist in this here human realm. So in order to abide by the GiW rules, I’m gonna have to dispose of you.”

Only now does Sidney feel the creeping threat of doubt begin to taint his Essence-- he doesn’t even know  _ what _ Walker is, so how can he possibly fight him? Heck, Sidney isn’t a fighter, he’ll  _ never  _ be one! It’s ridiculous to even consider fighting the mortal enemy of ghosts!

But he has to try, right? This is  _ his _ home.  _ His _ lair.  _ His _ friends. If he can’t do so much as chase some dumb G-Man out, how can he call himself the protector of Casper High’s students?

He braces himself, eyes narrowing and form distorting as he prepares to clash with Walker. The man seems to be doing the same, when--

\--the bell rings, signalling the end of first period. 

Sidney reins in his hostility until his Essence no longer affects the area around him, and Walker immediately assumes his human facade once more, straightening up and flashing Sidney a menacing stare before turning to head down the hall. As he leaves, his voice rumbles in Sidney’s head.

**_We’ll continue this another time._ **

With a flash of anger, Sidney shoots back,  **_Get out of my school!!_ **

The enigmatic man doesn’t respond to that, but the telltale angry crackle of his aura is answer enough. Sidney almost wants to go after him and attack him in plain sight, but that would likely cause more problems than it’d solve, so he decides against it. Gritting his teeth, he seeks out Danny’s Essence and heads towards it.

_ Better tell Danny about it. He’ll know what to do… I hope. _

* * *

Danny does  _ not _ know what to do.

He’s been freaking out about the stuff Sidney told him for literally the entire school day, and even now, as he stiffly pulls his backpack and homework out of his locker, he’s still shaken up. To his left, Sam and Tucker watch him with worry written on their faces. He doesn’t say anything, but he’s pretty sure he knows exactly what they want to ask. 

So he answers them before they can even do so. 

“I know what you guys wanna say, and no, I’m  _ not _ okay.” He sighs, shutting his locker and slinging his backpack over his shoulders.

Sam and Tucker exchange a glance, before Sam lowers her voice and murmurs, “We’re here for you, Danny. If you need anything, we’ll come running, okay? Just tell us what’s bothering you. Is it another spirit or something?”

Danny chews his lip for a moment. He weighs the pros and cons of telling them what Sidney had told him, then takes Sam’s words to heart and glances down at his sneakers. “Kind of.”

“Whatcha mean, ‘kind of’?” Tucker prods with a raised eyebrow.

“I mean…” Danny casts a wary look around, but the halls are nearly empty by now, so he’s not too worried about being overheard, “...Walker’s not entirely human, apparently. Sidney has no idea  _ what _ he is, but whatever he is, it’s not good.”

“Yikes,” Sam and Tucker remark in unison.

“Yeah. That’s what I said, too. I’m kinda freaking out a little bit, because I’d rather not be brutally murdered by Texas McGee over there,” he grumbles as they start for the school doors. 

Tucker reaches up to adjust his hat with an exasperated groan. “ _ Jesus, _ why can’t people just leave us alone? Haven’t they got stupid adult stuff to deal with already? Like… taxes, and voting for cruddy presidents and stuff?”

Danny shrugs. “I don’t know, Tuck. I really don’t.”

The school is completely empty by now, but that doesn’t necessarily strike Danny as odd. After all, they’re usually the last people to leave anyways and have made their late departure a habit. Partly because they like to take their time, and partly because if they’re late enough, the football guys will be on the field and not have time to harass them. 

So none of them have any suspicions about foul play until they reach the back doors of the school. At which time, it becomes painfully obvious that something’s wrong.

Sam and Tucker are a little bit ahead of Danny like usual-- Danny’s got the shortest legs of the group-- and Sidney hovers at his side like a shadow, so the two human members of the group pass through the doors with no issue. However, when Danny steps through the doorway, his body explodes with a pain he’s never felt before in his life.

Beside him, he can hear Sidney shriek in a distorted voice, but he has no time to think about that because his own body is twitching and moving against his will. His muscles spasm erratically, his brain races to find a way to make it stop, and he’s shoved back into the school by some invisible force. The weird force makes his legs give out, so he only manages to stay upright for a split second before he collapses to the floor, seizing up and unable to breathe. 

He vaguely registers Sam and Tucker shouting his name, and feels them pulling his backpack off to prevent him from hurting himself, but he still  _ can’t breathe, it hurts, stop, stop, STOP-- _

\--and after what feels like an eternity of white-hot agony, it subsides and he once again gains control of his body. Danny’s vision clears enough that he can now see where he is and what’s going on, so after catching his breath and slumping flat against the floor in exhaustion, he takes stock of his situation.

Sam and Tucker are kneeling on either side of him, eyes blown wide with terror. Danny can taste blood and his tongue throbs, so he’s pretty sure he bit his tongue, and the back of his head aches where he must’ve hit it on the floor. Other than that, he’s not sure  _ what  _ that was.

“What happened…?” he asks as he shakily pushes himself into a seated position. 

The relief on Sam and Tucker’s faces is palpable. They seem to have calmed down quite a bit, but Tucker still throws himself forward and crushes Danny in a hug as Sam leans in and checks Danny over. As she checks his face, she says, “It looks kind of like you had a seizure, honestly. You ever had a seizure before? Or is this some more stupid paranormal stuff?”

Danny shakes his head as Sam finishes checking him over. “N-no, no, I don’t… I don’t have seizures. I’m guessing it was something paranormal.”

**Ugh… y’know what that was? A powerful Ward, that’s what,** Sidney hisses in a tight voice from where he flickers in and out of sight to Danny’s left.

“Sidney says it’s from a powerful Ward,” Danny explains to his friends, “so I guess it’s probably from my parents or Walker.”

Wrinkling his nose, Tucker mutters, “This guy just landed himself the number two spot on my ‘Top Ten Evil Bastards’ list.”

Unable to stop his curiosity, Danny asks, “Who’s number one?”

“Todd Howard.”

Sam cocks an eyebrow. “Who’s Todd--”

“Don’t ask for answers you’re not prepared for,” Tucker says gravely, and the absurdity of it manages to drag Danny back to the problem at hand.

He waves a hand to stop any further off-topic conversation. “Anyways, how the  _ hell _ are we gonna deal with the Ward? I can’t just go looking for it myself, I’ll get fried again.”

“Leave it to us.” Sam promises with a cocky grin, seemingly forgetting Tucker’s weird Todd Howard nonsense. 

The two of them shoot Danny one last sympathetic look, then rise to their feet and exit the school, ready to destroy whatever Wards they can find.

* * *

_ God, _ he’s so tired of this crap.

He’s had to deal with this whole crummy paranormal stuff for as long as he can remember, and he’s sick of it. Especially now that some dumbass paranormal creature drew attention to itself and brought some government quack running. The boy’s almost tempted to look for the idiot who kicked the hornets’ nest and turn them in himself.

He’s waiting for his bus when the telltale drop in air pressure lets him know that a Ward has been tripped somewhere. 

You know, he  _ kinda _ wants to ignore it. After all, chatting with the paranormal has only ever brought him crappy luck no matter  _ what _ nice thing he does for them. But as always, his sympathy wins out over his cynicism and the boy slips away from the school bus crowd and heads back towards the main building. 

What he finds from his hiding place behind an old, gnarled tree is not at all what he expected. 

Sam Manson and Tucker Foley, two misfit kids from a handful of his classes, are hunting around the school as though they’re looking for something. An animal, perhaps? No, the boy can sense a ghost and another spirit just inside the school. 

Oh. 

_ Ohhhh. _

There’s another weird kid with I-See-Dead-People-Powers at Casper High. Well, then. At least the boy isn’t alone anymore. 

The odd thing is, though… the spirit-kid-whatever inside the school can’t get out because of the Wards that the Fentons had dumped around the place like delinquents and graffiti. At least the boy doesn’t have that problem. He’s not an  _ actual _ spirit, just some poor sap who’s shit outta luck. 

He’d rather not interact with these guys though, because it’s probably their fault that the GiW loser came here in the first place, and if he starts talking to these people, he’ll be dragged into some horrible shenanigans. The boy does want to help in some way, though…

...ah, that’ll work.

He drops his backpack on the grass and rummages around inside it until he finds a blank piece of paper and a sharpie. He scribbles out a hasty message on the paper and shoves his stuff back in his bag before waiting until Sam and Tucker look the opposite direction. Taking a deep breath, the boy darts out, tosses the note on the grass, and makes a break for the bus stop.

This is the most involved he’s willing to get. 

* * *

Sam’s not sure how she’s ever gonna get used to all this. She might be the goth one, the one in the group who dabbles in Wiccan beliefs and rituals, but the solid evidence that the paranormal really  _ does _ exist is both exciting and a bit scary. Though, she can definitely get used to seeing ghosts and monsters, because that’s something she can deal with. Hell, she can even  _ look forward _ to encountering them!

The thing she’s not sure about is the burden Danny now has to bear.

She’s pretty sure she’ll never be able to forget the image of Danny from a few minutes earlier--  _ the cut-off cry of pain, the sound of him gasping desperately for air and choking on nothing, his body convulsing in unnatural ways as his eyes rolled back as the floor and walls around the three of them began to twist and distort like melting cheese-- _ or the haunted look that plagues him nearly all the time now. Heaving a sigh, Sam kneels down and checks the red brick walls of the school where they’re hidden by decorative shrubbery.

Still nothing. She curses under her breath and stands up again. 

_ Where the hell  _ are _ these stupid Wards?! _

As though by magic, her thoughts are answered by the sound of paper rustling in the chilly breeze and she glances back over his shoulder in the direction of the noise. Sure enough, a folded sheet of lined paper is tumbling across the grass. 

Normally, she’d just grab it and toss it out while contemplating the imminent human-induced death of the earth, but this one has ‘Sam and/or Tucker’ written on the outside of it in sharpie. So, with nothing else to do, she jogs across the grass to catch it. 

Sam’s pretty good at telling people’s writing apart-- she takes pride in her ability to recognize who wrote a passed-along note in class at a quick glance-- but this person’s writing is one she’s not sure she’s seen before. Granted, she feels like she knows who it is, but their handwriting is so messy, it might as well have been written by a drunken raccoon who is also blind. 

Even so, she manages to make out what it says.

**Hey.**

**Leave me out of your shit but if ur looking for the Wards those Fenton folks hid, one’s a tiny pentacle drawn in chalk on a crumbling brick about six feet up the wall to the right of the doors. The other is about ten paces to the left of the doors. It’s a pentacle on a piece of paper buried in the dirt at the base of the wall. You can disable the field by erasing part of the chalk Ward with ur finger and by tearing up the paper Ward. Hope ur ghost/spirit friend is ok.**

**Also can yall fucking chill with your high-profile paranormal stuff? It’s giving me hella anxiety and I already have plenty of that shit at school as well as with the whole ‘I see dead people’ thing I’m cursed with. Thanks fam.**

**-Townes**

Sam reads the note over a few times, making sure she’s interpreted the messy writing properly. When she’s certain of it, she makes her way back towards the school where the strange note indicated the chalk Ward would be. 

The indicated spot is above her eye level, even with her combat boots and on her tiptoes, so with an exasperated groan, she glances in Tucker’s direction and shouts, “Hey, Tuck!”

“Yeah?!”

“C’mere a sec!”

Tucker pokes his head around the edge of the school, eyes wide with curiosity before he adjusts his glasses and draws nearer. When he’s close enough for Sam to talk in a low voice without any risk of strangers overhearing them, she murmurs, “Someone left a note saying one of the Wards is up there. Gimme a boost.”

He shoots her a skeptical look, but ultimately complies. Lacing his fingers together and bracing himself, he lets Sam step on his hands and boosts her up. It takes some time for her to find the right spot, but after a minute or two of ignoring spiders and scuffing her fingers on rough brick, she finds the absolutely tiny Ward exactly where the letter had said. With a triumphant grin, she licks her thumb and uses it to wipe away the pentacle. When it’s done, she looks down at Tucker and says, “Got it! Let’s go find the other one!”

This time, Tucker doesn’t show any trace of doubt and follows her over to the other Ward with the same level of enthusiasm.

* * *

“Well, it seems the spirit managed to escape. Darn it.” Maddie sighs, picking up the shredded scraps of her intricately-drawn ward from where they lay strewn across the grass. 

Behind her, Jack huffs in irritation. “When I catch that thing, I’ll--!”

“I understand how upset you are, Jack,” Maddie says with a reassuring smile at her husband, “but we anticipated this would happen. After all, this spirit has been around for heaven-knows-how-long, it’ll have  _ had _ to be crafty about things like Wards. We’ll get it contained eventually, I know we will.”

Jack scratches at the back of his head with an expression that’s equal parts confused and unsure. “I know we will, Maddie, I just… we were so close.”

“And we’ll just get even closer. Especially when we try Plan B.”

“Plan B?” Jack inquires with a cocked eyebrow.

Maddie can’t help the excited grin that spreads across her face. “ _ This _ plan will include the Fenton Portal.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sidney may not know about the 'owo' meme but he sure captures its essence; and for every correct guess as to who the strange boy is, I will give my gecko a kiss on the head.
> 
> I did so much dang research on symbols and stuff and apparently the pentacle was originally used to _contain_ evil spirits rather than _summon_ them! Funky, huh?
> 
> Find me here!!
> 
> [Instagram](http://www.instagram.com/hitamory/)
> 
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> 
> [Tumblr](http://hitamory.tumblr.com/)  
>    
> And a huge thank you to [Aster](http://fingerspellingtopassthetime.tumblr.com/) for putting up with my shit and always beta-reading my stuff!!


	9. inhuman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hECK THESE ILLUSTRATIONS KILLED ME
> 
> But I hope you like the chapter!! :D

A few days have passed since the whole fiasco with the Wards at Casper High, and since then, school has been fine. Not great, not terrible, just… fine. Dash has left Danny alone, and Walker has been lingering around the school like a creepy Undertaker, but things have been quiet. Almost eerily so. 

Regardless, Danny’s not gonna complain about finally getting a good night’s sleep, so if things are quiet, he’ll ignore paranormal stuff for as long as he can. 

Which is why he’s not altogether pleased when, on the first day of his long weekend, he’s wrenched out of bed by the sound of something letting out a high-pitched, keening cry. 

The sound toes the line between human and animal, almost forming words but too animalistic to have any sense made of them. Danny wakes up in a frenzy, the strange creature’s panicked aura affecting Danny’s own perception until he’s lucid enough to determine that these aren’t _his_ emotions. From there, he realizes he can sense the aura of yet another spirit in the house. 

In the basement.

Danny’s heart sinks at the same time his blood runs cold. Without even pausing to explain to Alvin and Sidney what’s going on, he tumbles out of bed, trips ungracefully on some dirty laundry strewn across the floor, and starts for the door. He forces himself to act calm and collected as he descends the stairs and turns the corner into the kitchen. 

Of course, Jazz is sitting there already. Her blue eyes flick up to acknowledge him as he enters, probably looking like a reanimated corpse, but before she can say anything, Danny rubs at his eyes and yawns, “Do you hear that?”

She cocks an eyebrow at him and swallows her bite of toast. “What, Mom and Dad yelling about spirits? Yeah.”

Danny only realizes then that he can also hear his parents chattering excitedly, but shakes his head. “No, I mean the animal howling. Or… I guess crying is a better way to put it? I dunno. Maybe I’m going crazy.”

Despite his obviously-strange question, Jazz doesn’t look at him with anything other than acceptance. She places the toast down on her plate and rises to her feet, stretching her arms high above her head with a yawn. “I don’t hear it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they were freaking out over a black cat or something down there. Let’s go see what crazy stuff they’re doing now.”

For whatever reason, Danny doesn’t feel scared or anxious that Jazz is coming with him. In fact, he’s actually relieved. He doesn’t dwell on it long, though; the two of them are already heading for the stairs to the lab. When they reach the bottom of the stairs, they both stop dead, shock written across their faces. 

Jack and Maddie are chasing a tiny blue spirit around the lab.

It’s a small thing, no bigger than a corgi, with four legs, sky-blue scales that reflect the light like tiny diamonds, and glittering green horns that curl back from its head not unlike ram horns. Its eyes are solid red, glowing faintly, and a golden amulet hangs from its neck. Danny feels the tiny dragon’s fear as though it were his own as it skitters around the floor, wailing in terror and leaving deep gouges in the tile with its pale blue claws. 

“Quick, Maddie, catch it with the thermos!!” Jack shouts as he slips and goes skidding sideways into a cabinet full of talismans.

Maddie, hearing Jack shout, snatches a plain-looking thermos from where it sits on one of the counters and aims it at the tiny creature. She pushes a button on its side… but it fizzles and coughs out a pathetic column of smoke. The spirit, seeing its chance, makes a break for the stairs. 

Unfortunately, it doesn’t realize that Danny and Jazz have blocked the way, and before either of them can react the dragon catapults into Danny’s chest. He collapses backwards under the weight of it, instinctively grabbing at it in the way he would with someone’s cat. Jack and Maddie let out simultaneous shouts of alarm, but the dragon’s terror is momentarily suspended as it realizes that Danny is, in a way, another spirit.

He opens his mouth, ready to ask what the fresh hell is going on, but the dragon’s voice invades his head before he can.

**_HELP ME HELP ME HELP ME_ **

**_THEY STOLE ME HELP ME HELP HELP HELP_ **

**_I DO NOT BELONG HERE TAKE ME HOME HOME HOMEHOMEHOME_ **

Her voice is almost too much to handle, but somehow, he manages to give her the opportunity she needs to escape. 

He screams in mock terror, tossing her behind him in the direction of the stairs in enough of a frenzy that it can be mistaken as genuine fear. Her claws scrabble for purchase on the steps for a few heart-stopping moments, then she spreads her leathery wings and leaps into the air. Before Jack and Maddie can even come close, the little spirit is long gone. 

Maddie vaults over her reeling children, wielding the Spirit Staff and shouting as she tries to catch the spirit before it leaves the house. That’s to be expected; spirit-hunting is her entire world, her drive, and it’s nothing to feel upset about. Jazz, however, is immediately hovering over Danny, eyes wide with alarm as she offers him a hand up. “You okay??”

“Y-yeah, I’m…” he glances over his shoulder at the stairs, “...I’m fine. Um, did you see that?”

Jazz’s face goes a few shades paler, but she pushes her red hair away from her face with a heavy sigh. “Yeah. What _was_ that?”

“That was a spirit,” Jack groans, rubbing at his lower back as he crosses the lab towards them. “We managed to lure one out of the Spirit World, but this didn’t go nearly as well as planned.”

While he appreciates the explanation, Danny feels his stomach twist at his father’s admittance. “What do you mean, ‘planned’? What were you guys doing?”

Jazz shoots him a sideways glare that tells him she’d rather be anywhere _but_ listening to this supernatural crap, but Danny pointedly ignores it. Jack gives his son a smile, but not even that is reassuring when Jack explains what it is they’re doing.

“We were gonna use it to lure out the spirit at you kids’ school!”

Danny’s mouth goes dry. 

_My parents are hunting me._

His hearing fades out into white noise as Jack continues explaining everything about their plan.

**_My parents are hunting me._ **

In spite of how suspicious it must look, Danny lowers his head, mumbles a hasty excuse, and goes back upstairs at a faster pace than he should. Jazz calls out after him, but he’s already forming a plan in his head as his bare feet take him all the way up to his room. 

He knew it would come to this, it would always have come to this, but it doesn’t make it any less devastating to finally have to face. His parents are spirit hunters, and he is a spirit. Simple as that. 

_I’m being stupid._

He enters his room, rubbing at his tired eyes and letting out a long, exasperated groan. 

As much as he wants to dive right back into bed, his goddamned hero complex is jabbing at his mind, reminding him of the spirit’s primal terror and desperate pleas for help as she clawed at his shirt. There’s no way in hell he can just ignore that and let her be dissected by his parents or slaughtered by Walker. He knows, _fuck,_ he _knows_ this is only gonna end badly for him; this was literally a trap set to catch _Danny_ , but if… if he’s caught by his parents, he can just reveal himself. They’ll… they’ll still accept him, right?

He feels his emotional resolve waver for just a moment, and in that moment, he feels that strange presence in his chest creeping up his throat once more. It’s never occurred to him before, but he realizes that he almost feels like another person is rising from slumber, sharing a body with him. The thought freaks him out enough to make him flinch, scrabbling for something to ground himself, and like waves crashing into a beach and retreating back into the sea, the feeling subsides. Danny lets out a shuddering breath. 

He’s going to do this. 

If he doesn’t… who the hell will?

* * *

Jazz doesn’t like to boast, but she’s always been very good at picking up the little things that most people don’t. Things like red herrings in word problems, minute changes in the placement of objects around the house, and most importantly, the slightest alterations in a person’s mood and feelings. Which is why she’s certain something happened to Danny on that fateful night he ended up in the hospital.

It was a traumatic event, and Jazz knows that _anyone_ would suffer from PTSD or other lasting effects had they experienced the same thing her brother had, but too many things don’t line up with his behavior. Some of the quirks she’s noticed from him are the way he talks to himself when he thinks nobody can hear him, the remnants of salt particles on his bedroom windowsill and in the hallway outside his room, and how he steals away from home and school at every given moment. It’s all quite strange, and while Jazz doesn’t consider belief in the paranormal to be a logical choice, she can’t help but feel as though someone or something strange and ethereal is living in the Fenton house alongside its living, human residents. 

It’s eaten away at her mind so thoroughly that she’s even found herself sneaking down to the lab and nosing her way into her parents’ computer for answers. Nothing conclusive comes up, not even during the few times she went so far as to open the Spirit Portal and wait to see if anything would come out. Even now, she feels that itch gnawing away at her mind, desperate to find what it is that’s caused such a dramatic change in Danny’s behavior and help him chase that anxiety away.

That’s what she’s doing with her laptop at the table, having suffered through her father’s long-winded monologue about their spirit-catching plan, when she picks up on the sound of her brother’s sock-footed steps coming back downstairs. She pretends not to notice, as she often does, until he walks into the kitchen with the silent purpose of a cat searching for prey. Speaking of cats, Jazz finds her mind wandering back to that night she’d entered Danny’s room and the light from the hallway behind her had passed over his face as the light from the kitchen does right this moment. 

When Danny’s eyes flick up to meet Jazz’s, she sees it once more and concludes that it wasn’t just a trick of the light; Danny’s pupils, which have been oddly glassy since the accident, light up brilliant white, reflecting the harsh white LED light cascading from the light fixture. 

The way he doesn’t even attempt to hide it clues Jazz in to the fact that he likely either has no idea that his eyes reflect light like an animal’s, or knows about it but is still so new to this change that he’s not sure when his eyes _do_ glow. Regardless, Jazz calmly lets her gaze drift away from Danny’s eyes and begins scrolling through her personal research with a long, slow sip of her coffee.

When she’s done, she gives Danny her ‘sympathetic older sibling' smile, which is decidedly more appropriate than her ‘I know you’re up to shit and I want in on it’ look. “You alright, little brother?”

He blinks at her slowly, once again catlike in nature, before looking down at his socks and shuffling across the kitchen to the pantry. “I guess.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then,” she hums as she places her pumpkin-print coffee mug back down on the table. “That weird little animal didn’t hurt you, did it?”

Danny pulls a jar of peanut butter out of the pantry-- _he never liked peanuts before the accident, that’s another new personality quirk--_ and hunts for a spoon with a shake of his head. “N-no, no, I’m just. Processing.”

Jazz nods. “I’ve never seen anything like it before. Have you?”

“Nope, I haven’t,” comes the far-too-quick reply, which tells Jazz that Danny does in fact have experience with the paranormal. 

She doesn’t let on that she’s suspicious, shrugging and jotting down her latest observations in her open Google Docs tab. “Wonder what it was.”

“I dunno, maybe some neighbourhood cat they zapped with some radioactive crap they have stored in the basement. Like the time they irradiated a toad and it escaped so the entire neighbourhood had to be evacuated while the bomb squad and animal control looked for it.”

Jazz can’t help the way her face twists with distaste at the memory. “ _Don’t_ remind me.”

It’s silent for a time as Danny shovels huge spoonfuls of nothing but straight peanut butter into his mouth, seemingly unaware of what he’s doing. The whole thing is so odd that Jazz eventually takes a deep breath and speaks up. “I thought you hated peanuts.”

“I do, why?” Danny asks vacantly.

“Whatcha eating there?” Jazz prompts with a jerk of her chin at the jar in Danny’s hands.

Only now does he look down, spoon still hanging from his mouth as he freezes for several seconds. It’s hilarious, in all honesty; the only thing that stops Jazz from bursting out into hysterical laughter is the fact that the look on Danny’s face isn’t funny. Rather, a shadow of horror passes briefly across his blue eyes before he swallows his last mouthful of peanut butter, drops the spoon in the sink, and puts the jar back in the pantry. He doesn’t offer any explanation. Instead, he shifts his weight awkwardly from foot to foot for a few seconds as though thinking of something to say. He doesn’t defend himself, in the end. Danny just mumbles something about needing to run out for something and heads for the front door. 

Jazz lowers her head again, and when Danny thinks she’s not paying attention, his too-casual movements sharpen. He swipes something from the coffee table, then jumps across the living room to the front door. Which wouldn’t normally be concerning, but seeing as the distance from the coffee table to the front doormat is around 15 feet, it’s definitely something that piques Jazz’s interest. 

Five minutes after Danny leaves out the front door, Jazz shuts her laptop, pulls out her phone’s ‘ _Location Sharing’_ map, and heads for the door. She swipes her car keys from where they hang on the little rack near the front entrance with a purposeful smile.

Having a forgetful younger sibling is a blessing when that sibling forgets they have their Location Sharing set to ‘share indefinitely’.

* * *

**Danny (10:08))**

**_Meet me at the mall asap. Need backup._ **

**Tucker (10:09)**

**_Oh shit_ **

**_On my way man_ **

**Sam (10:09)**

**_Same. I’ll be there in 20_ **

* * *

Danny follows the spirit’s aura through the neighbourhood and ends up standing at the edge of Amity Mall’s gargantuan parking lot, glaring daggers at the huge building. With a groan, he shoots Sam and Tucker a text asking for backup before sucking in a deep breath and walking across the frost-glazed asphalt. The sky is a dismal gray, and heavy clouds hang low over the city, sucking the colour from everything around Danny-- and he can’t really complain about it bringing down the mood. If anything, it complements the ominous atmosphere.

Behind him, he feels the familiar pulse of Alvin and Sidney’s auras. They haven’t said anything since he asked them to come with him, which is a bit unnerving, but Danny’s grateful for the silence. It allows him to focus on what’s ahead without losing his nerve. 

It’s only when Danny pushes open the doors to the mall’s food court that Alvin speaks in a hushed voice that hums in Danny’s head like static. **We’ll do what we can to distract anything that tries to capture you. But be careful, kid.**

Danny expected to feel awkward or angry when the ghosts finally decided to speak to him, but now that it’s happened, he feels comforted. 

He’s not alone.

A smile ghosts across his lips, but Alvin and Sidney are gone before he can say anything in reply. Which is a bit disappointing, but Danny can’t fault them for that. They just want to look for threats.

As their auras grow further away, Danny can more easily tune them out and focus on the dragon spirit’s aura. 

It blankets the entire food court like a heavy fog with the stifling tang of fear and paranoia that contrasts the happily-chattering shoppers sharply. It doesn’t converge on one single point, which means that Danny will have to search for it manually. He sighs. 

Danny’s fingers tighten around the handle of the folded-up Spirit Staff in his hoodie pocket, cool and humming with paranormal energy. He tries to put his faith in the Staff, imagining all his nervous energy being sapped away and siphoned into its shining silver form, but as expected, nothing happens. Well, shit.

As he passes a particularly busy Wendy’s, a brilliant glimmer of pale blue catches his eye. 

Barely managing to remain casual, Danny angles his head in the direction of the blue _thing._ Sure enough, he catches sight of the tiny creature cowering on the floor, practically glued to the leg of some unlucky shopper and whipping its head around anxiously at every footstep that comes too close. Thankfully, it seems to be invisible or insignificant to human eyes and isn’t drawing any attention. Danny sets his jaw.

_I’m really doing this._

With as much casual energy as he can muster, Danny weaves through the claustrophobic sea of clamoring customers towards the spirit and her unlucky companion. He finds himself roughly shoved off-track by a few particularly aggressive customers once or twice, but quickly regains his footing with a hasty ‘sorry’ and continues on his way.

He’s pretty sure he can deal with this whole thing right up until he realizes that the spirit’s companion is none other than Paulina Sanchez, the most popular girl at Casper High.

His breath catches in his throat as nerves begin to take hold. However, Danny does manage to soldier on through the anxiety and worries at his lip for a moment before taking the plunge.

“H-hey, Paulina,” Danny begins with a smile he hopes isn’t _too_ horribly awkward and a small wave.

The girl pauses, then turns to look at him. Something like disdain sparks in her eyes and radiates from the way she raises her chin and furrows her brow, so Danny’s pretty sure his smile is less ‘I’d like to be your friend’ and more ‘My stomach isn’t agreeing with that Taco Bell’. Mission number one failed. 

“Oh, it’s you,” she says bluntly, “the kid with the ghost hunter parents. Keep your ‘Fenton Weirdness’ away from me, or I swear to God I’ll make your life hell.”

Danny holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to bother you or anything, I just…” he takes a deep breath, “...I’m looking for… Sam’s cat. I saw it run past and was wondering if you saw where it went?”

For some strange reason, Paulina suddenly seems to give off an aura akin to the one the Flesh Eater had, which immediately makes Danny stiffen. “Is that _all_ you wanted to ask? _God,_ you’re not even man enough to ask me out?? Even _Mikey_ could do that.”

It’s so stereotypically ‘Mean Popular Girl’ that Danny immediately finds himself suspecting something supernatural afoot and lets his gaze drift down to the spirit winding itself around her ankle. It stares back at him with wide, scared ruby eyes as its form flickers and slowly begins being absorbed into the girl it attaches to. Danny’s eyes fly wide open and he makes a grab for the spirit’s outstretched claw at the same moment it vanishes into Paulina’s skin.

This seems to be the _wrong_ thing to do, because Paulina’s ‘aura’ explodes with a rage so intense, it forces its way into Danny’s lungs and burns him from the inside out. He coughs, stumbling back from her and trying to plead with her through watering eyes. 

By now, customers are noticing the commotion and turn to watch, murmuring in confusion as Paulina’s form shifts in minute ways, slowly, slowly, becoming something inhuman. She grows taller, her normally-tan skin taking on a blue hue and her skin cracking, swelling, reforming into diamond-sharp scales. Her bones crack and her howling voice becomes more and more distorted until Danny finds himself staring, horrified, up at something straight out of an H.P. Lovecraft novel.

Not-Paulina stands about 35 feet tall with a long, scaly face similar to that of a barracuda. Crooked teeth, both human and dragon, stick out of her maw at wild angles and an uncountable number of blue-and-red marble eyes roll around a misshapen head, crowned by two crooked green horns. The only thing that can even be vaguely recognized as either of the two combined individuals is the lithe, blue-scaled body and leathery wings of the dragon spirit… but even then, it’s constantly shifting between humanoid and reptilian, sometimes with long, thin human arms and sometimes with the muscular forelegs of a dragon.

By now, customers are running, screaming, snapping photos with their phones, and Danny takes their lead. He spins on his heel, nearly slipping on the smooth tile floor, and breaks into a dead sprint for the nearest hallway. With a cry of alarm, he narrowly ducks under the monster’s slavering jaws as it lunges for him. 

Danny opens his mouth to shout for Alvin, but stops short when he realizes that he’s now separated from his friend by several tonnes of lovecraftian horror monster. Fuck. Well, there goes Plan A.

As if in response to his dismay, the weird presence stirs in his chest again, but he shoves it down. This is _not_ the damn time for an existential crisis. He skids around a corner, catching himself on one hand before bolting down the next shop-lined hallway. Behind him, the monster bellows and crashes into the wall. Debris rains down from the cracking ceiling, filling the halls with hazy dust only broken up by the neon lights of the mall’s storefronts. Danny shields his mouth and nose with his sleeve as he keeps running through the chaos. 

The only time he hesitates is when all falls silent, the screams of customers muffled with distance, and the creature forces its voice into Danny’s head with a jolt of pain.

 

**_Ẃ̶̡̜̰̖͍͋͂̊͠H̠͓̙̖̖̖̰̙̬̫̏̾̍͂̆̕Ę̵̭̻̮̆̈́̈́̓̿͟͝R͓̪̲͍̠̗̞̩̤̽̂̂̈́̚͜Ȩ͕͉̯͕̹̇̈̾͂̇̂̉̀͜ Ā̰̣͕̝̳̯͖͒̾͞͝͞Ŗ̸̟̖͇̺̯̭̳͚̊̑͆͛͐̈̓E̻͕͙̥̬̜͔̎̈́̽̓̅̽̀̚ Y̵̡̧̛̱͈̯̘̱̤̰̐͂̿̒̚͘Ơ̷̰͕̻̝͔̪͍̑̊̔̊̇͜Ư̵̢̢̟̦̬̭̦͑̈́̿̐̅̍̔͟_ **

 

It’s the tortured sound of two garbled voices trying desperately to talk over one another, and it’s the worst thing Danny’s ever heard. His stomach lurches at the sound of it, and so does the Thing in his chest. It stirs so violently, in fact, that Danny feels a strange voice tumble from his lungs to his lips, speaking in tongues that by all rights he should not be able to understand… and yet he hears it clear as day.

**_“You are not yourself, Sky Dragon. Allow us to help you, dear friend.”_ **

Danny feels his hands start shaking, and he has to force himself to keep running away from the monster in spite of that. His mind is jumping all over the place, his feet keep slipping on the tile floor, and he can’t think straight. Something _else_ is living inside his body, something _controlled my voice, that wasn’t me, this is wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, WRONG--_

The ceiling above him explodes as the monster bashes its horrifying face through the second floor, shrieking loudly enough that Danny can feel the moment his left eardrum ruptures, sending him flying down the hall. In spite of how rattled and terrified he is, Danny staggers to his feet and whirls around to search for an escape route… 

There! A wide doorway at the far end of the hall beckons him with promises of safety, and he starts running again. By now, his lungs are burning and his bad leg is starting to ache dully, but he keeps on pushing, pushing, _pushing._

_I’m almost there, I’m almost safe, I’m--!_

A massive, blade-tipped blue tail flies around him in a wide arc, colliding with the ceiling and wall over the exit. Danny can’t help the despairing curse he shouts as he puts on a last burst of speed in an attempt to get through the exit before rubble crashes down on it and blocks off his last chance at freedom.

He’s almost there, when the Thing sharing his body once again seizes control of him, hijacking his ability to use his legs and changing direction sharply enough to give him whiplash. A heartbeat later, several tonnes of concrete, iron supports, and brick wall segments crash to the ground right where he’d have been had he not been forcibly wrenched off course. 

As suffocating dust billows around the wider area in which he’s been cornered, Danny shakily forces himself to his feet once more and pulls out the Spirit Staff in trembling hands. The Staff gives off a pale green glow when he extends it to its full length, reflecting off the burning cloud engulfing him and choking out his line of sight. Paranoia begins to set in, and his head whips around as he wields his staff like a sword, hoping to catch the beast before it reaches him.

 

**_I̵̢͔͙̫͙̤͍̹̻̤͋͒̌̄͑̔͛̿͑̕'̹͙̭͚̬͔̍̇̽̌̑͞V̵̛̺̯͚͍͎̊̌̎̔̆̿̕͜E̷̢̡͉̗͉̜͙̒͆̃͆̿̊̓̔͘͟͞ F̵̠̞̖̰̟̘̣̱͊̓̈́̉͘͠ͅO̷̢͇̹̜͚͕̜͂̌̂̿͒͘͞ͅU̡̻̖͚̿̓͋̄̚͢N̴͙̝̖̖̘̥͚͔̄̓͑̊̏̆͟͡D̢̡̦̣̞̖̘̅̏͌̇̔͝ Ÿ̵̨̢̗̫̟́͊͑̅͟͞͠ͅƠ̴̧̡̪̪͉͎̈̀̇̿͒̓͝U̴̺̮͍̘͇͎͛̊̆̃͒̅̉͂̆͝.̪̺͖̞͖͙̜̿̍̆̉͝ͅ_ **

 

The guttural, rasping leer comes not a heartbeat before countless gleaming eyes glimmer to life less than ten feet away through the dust and debris. Despite the fact that he does in fact have ample time to launch an attack, his blood runs cold in his veins and his entire body freezes up. His mind goes numb, empty, silent, save for the simple thought that perhaps this is how he’ll die. 

Danny’s unable to move to attack or evade, even as the beast screeches with glee and swipes a massive paw at him.

The blow sends him flying sideways through the air like a ragdoll, where he hits a glass storefront, slams through the wall separating the window display from the rest of the store, and finally into the small store, where he lies sprawled out on his back with the Staff at his side. Danny’s head spins, making his stomach churn with nausea, and the sickening, coppery taste of blood fills his mouth and runs from his lips to his chin. He knows for sure that this sort of hit would’ve killed a human; he can tell from the way he can feel his insides weaving themselves back together and his bones melding into a healthy shape again. But even with his impressive healing abilities, he knows for certain that he won’t be well enough to fight the spirit beast before it reaches him and finishes the job. 

Danny’s heart lurches when he lets his pained gaze drift down to the shattered glass window dripping in his own blood, and sees the beast’s ominous silhouette lumbering closer through the dense dust cloud. He grits his teeth and lets his eyes fall shut.

_Fuck._

A few seconds pass where the only sounds are the distant police and EMT sirens outside the mall, and the slow, thunderous footsteps of the spirit monster bearing down on him. Sounds that Danny expects.

When those sounds fade into utter silence, Danny cracks his eyes open and finds himself once more lying in that strange limbo where he’d first… where he’d…

His body is still riddled with terrible wounds, and he can’t bring himself to move, but he feels a presence gradually drawing nearer to him. Ice-cold yet scalding-hot all at once, an intimidating white figure approaches to sit next to him on silent feet. Flame-wreathed jade eyes bore holes into Danny as Ayla watches him from where she sits at his side.

**_I should have known that my bond with you would not bring me peace._ **

Danny lets his eyes slide closed and wheezes, “‘M I dead fr’ good?”

Ayla makes a sound similar to a human clicking their tongue in disapproval and flicks one of her many ears. **_No, but you are in no state to fight._ **

“So ‘m gonna die soon.”

**_Not if you accept the full extent of my power._ **

“Thought I did th’t.”

**_No. It is an invasive process, one that few like and even fewer try more than once. It will lead to drastic alterations in your perception, physical abilities, and, potentially, your appearance. Even while not actively using the bond._ **

Danny takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Don’ wanna die. Do it.”

Ayla pauses as though uncertain of whether or not to accept his quick agreement, but soon dips her head and speaks in that odd tongue that the Presence-- which Danny now realizes was Ayla all along-- used in an attempt to appease the dragon-beast earlier.

**_“As we have agreed, so the pact shall be.”_ **

The pain paralyzing Danny in place suddenly melts away like magic, and he gasps sharply. As he sits bolt upright, the endless, billowing blackness of space around he and Ayla twists, distorts, closes in… then explodes outward to reveal a beautiful landscape characterized by green fields dotted with wildflowers, unearthly spirits flying through the air and strolling through the grass, and the strangest trees Danny’s ever seen. A warm breeze caresses his skin like an embrace, leaving him content and sleepy.

It only lasts a moment, however, and Danny finds himself falling through the ground, covering immense distance and none at all at incredible speed. The wild descent only ends when he manages to right himself and his bare feet splash into ankle-deep water reflecting a beautiful, cloud-speckled blue sky that seems to curve around Danny in a wide dome with no visible exit. Ayla faces Danny, thick white fur billowing around her like a ghostly halo in the salty sea-breeze. 

Cool water soaks into the hems of Danny’s jeans, but he’s too confused by everything he’s seeing and experiencing to care about that.

“What--” he begins, but Ayla dips her head and vanishes. 

At the same moment, Danny finds himself suddenly back in his own body, not having moved from where it lies motionless on the floor of an Old Navy. Something isn’t quite right, however. He’s… not one. He is two, working in tandem to channel otherworldly energy through Their shared vessel.

The sensation is euphoric, and the human half of Them wants to whoop loudly with ecstasy. Their other half, despite feeling the same rush of energy, gently guides the former half back to the task at hand, and then They are one being and They see the world in brilliant splashes of every colour, every Aura, every Essence, every ally and every enemy all at once.

They are the Halfa, and as Their form shifts, grows, and contorts into something no longer human, They bare Their teeth and challenge the Dragon-Beast with a snarl.

* * *

Jazz pulls into the Amity Mall parking lot at the same time that throngs of panicking customers surge out of every single available exit, screaming, battered, and visibly in shock. The sight of it makes her dig her nails into the steering wheel, but she reassures herself by murmuring under her breath, “Danny’s smart. He knows what to do in an emergency. He’s gonna be fine.”

At least a dozen police cars come tearing down the road and swerve into the parking lot, blazing past Jazz in her small hatchback car in a blinding display of red-and-blue light. Behind them, several ambulances wail at deafening volume and rocket into the parking lot before splitting off to approach every crowd of shoppers they can. Jazz hesitates for just a moment before pulling into a vacant parking space, face grim, and reaching for her cellphone with shaking hands.

_Danny’s gonna be safe._

She swallows and opens her phone.

_He’s gonna be with the rest of the crowd._

She opens her Location Sharing map.

_I’ll pick him up and we’ll go home and I’ll tease him like I always do._

Jazz’s heart stops.

Danny’s blue location marker stares back up at her as though mocking her silent hopes, pulsing from the mall’s South entrance. 

She turns off the engine, grabs her shoulder bag, and leaps out onto the slick, damp pavement without a second thought. She doesn’t even lock her car as she normally would. Her only care is that she’ll find her little brother safe and sound.

* * *

“ _Why_ do we hang out with a kid who has _literal monsters_ trying to kill him at every goddamn moment of every day?” Tucker hisses under his breath from where he and Sam sit huddled under a collapsed segment of roof.

Sam doesn’t grace his attempt at humor with an answer. Instead, she peers down the hall in the direction the monster had gone before grabbing Tucker’s wrist-- which he actually quite appreciates because he’s pretty sure he’s on the verge of passing out-- and pulling him out from under their hiding spot. She then meets Tucker’s eyes with an intense expression that he wishes he was courageous enough to return, and says, “That’s exactly _why_ we need to stick with him. We’re the only ones who know about his secret and we can help.”

Tucker sucks in a deep breath through his teeth. He’s pretty sure Sam thinks he’s gonna chicken out and stay behind, and had it not been _Danny_ out there, well, Tucker probably _would_ just stay out of harm’s way. 

But that’s his best friend out there.

He’s not gonna give up on Danny.

Setting his jaw, Tucker ends eye contact with Sam and breaks into a jog before she can even speak. He can feel her watching him with bewildered eyes, and glances over his shoulder to shout, “Whatcha waiting for?! We gotta help him!”

Sam gawks for a moment more before racing after him, combat boots crunching on shattered glass and thumping on dust-coated tile. They sprint side-by-side down the hall, vaulting over collapsed roof supports, swerving around gaping holes in the floor, and shielding their faces from the chalky dust still spilling from the roof. It’s not fun, especially not since Tucker’s nowhere near a decent fitness level, but he pushes his screaming legs and protesting lungs to their limit in the direction of the monster’s bellowing. 

_If he dies, I’m gonna kill him._

Sam is the one who notices the beast first when the hall opens up into a wide pavillion lined with once-quaint little shops and decorated with the remnants of delicate flowerpots and ornate fountains-- the South entrance. She skids to a stop, grabbing Tucker by the back of his shirt and making him stop short as well. Tucker’s vaguely aware of her saying something in a hushed, urgent tone, but Tucker doesn’t hear it. All he’s focused on is locating his best friend.

Sunlight cuts through the dust from the glass ceiling and illuminates the entire pavillion, and Tucker catches sight of something red glittering on the shattered remains of a glass storefront. He turns his attention to it to inspect it more closely… and immediately wishes he hadn’t.

“Oh, _fuck,_ ” he barely manages to choke out before slinking out into the open, trying to silently weave around the pavillion in the direction of the storefront. 

Sam follows him, hissing, “ _What?”_

_“That!”_ Tucker snaps shortly and jabs a finger at the window. Sam follows his gesture and immediately pales.

Bright red blood drips from the razor-edges of the shattered glass window. It could be anyone’s blood, Tucker knows that, but deeper in his gut he’s certain that it’s not some stranger’s blood. The monster is hunting Danny and Danny alone. It wouldn’t be drawing closer to the storefront if it were anyone other than him.

And the thought that Danny’s too hurt to fight back is terrifying.

Despair is beginning to sink it’s icy-cold claws into Tucker’s flesh and tear at him until there’s nothing left but an empty husk wracked with panic and terror, but just when he’s sure he’s going to fall apart…

...Danny steps through the broken window.

* * *

Jazz manages to squeeze through the wreckage blocking the South entrance at the same time her brother steps through the bloodstained glass window decorated with _Old Navy_ decals.

Under any other circumstances, she’d be overjoyed to see him walking out of the wreckage (mostly) intact. This time, though, something isn’t quite right.

Well, more accurately, she’s having a difficult time finding anything _not_ unnatural about him.

Wherever his worn-out red-and-white sneakers touch the floor, it cracks audibly and fragments of shimmering white floor tiles hover around his feet as though gravity no longer applies to them. His veins are lit up, pulsing with eerie greenish-white energy in time with his heartbeat, and his eyes glow solid green, hissing with equally-bright green tongues of flame. 

Jazz’s breath catches in her throat when Danny speaks.

**_“The destruction and terror you have caused on the first plane is unacceptable. We will not allow you to continue this behaviour.”_ **

The monster snarls something in reply, speaking in a strange language Jazz can’t pinpoint. Not that she has long to linger on it anyhow, seeing as Danny is transforming, growing, changing, twisting into a beast the likes of which Jazz has never considered the existence of.

Standing on six massive paws, eyes blazing with emerald fire as a white mane of flame runs down the length of its spine, is a huge, three-tailed black-and-white dog.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes the little dragon is Dorathea from s1e2, and I put my own darker twist on the whole 'the person who wears the amulet becomes the dragon'. In this au, if Dorathea is under great emotional duress and comes into physical contact with a living being, her Essence will merge with theirs in a horrifying version of the lovely fusions from Steven Universe. Why am I like this? Good fuckin question. 
> 
> No I'm not a furry I just love monster transformations :'D
> 
> Find me here!!
> 
> [Instagram](http://www.instagram.com/hitamory/)
> 
> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/hitamory)
> 
> [Tumblr](http://hitamory.tumblr.com/)  
>    
> And a huge thank you to [Aster](http://fingerspellingtopassthetime.tumblr.com/) for putting up with my shit and always beta-reading my stuff!!


	10. aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YALL LOOK AT [THIS AMAZING ANIMATION](https://twitter.com/HeroVantablack/status/1164168544524951552) MY HELLA AWESOME FRIEND DID OF THE LAST CHAPTER HOLY S H I T
> 
>  
> 
> **Trigger warnings for this chapter: Violence, gore, existential crisis, severe burns, self-hatred, body horror**

Maddie Fenton doesn’t like cursing. 

She doesn’t have to worry much, as Jack rarely curses and her children are both teenagers and swearing doesn’t bother them, although she may scold them once in a while if their cursing gets too frequent. In place of cursing, she and Jack have come up with silly, childish exclamations usually pertaining to the supernatural. It embarrasses her kids, Maddie knows this, but she’s a mom and her kids are teens. It’s pretty much a requirement of motherhood to embarrass your kids when they become teenagers.

However, when alarms suddenly jolt her out of her steady focus, leaning over the Fenton Thermos and muttering away as she tries to fix it, she jumps with a gasp. Jack, who’s halfway through a plate of toast, stiffens as flashing lights and wailing alarms turn the lab into a chaotic mess of noise and color. Maddie hesitates for only a moment before racing across the lab to the computer. The alert that glares at her from the screen makes her blood run cold.

Maddie Fenton doesn’t like cursing. But when she reads that notification over again, her lips form the words before she can help it.

_ “Fuck.” _

* * *

_ Danny feels a reassuring burn flowing through his veins, flooding him with comfortable warmth and down his spine and limbs, bleeding out his fingertips. A rush of euphoria the likes of which he’s never, ever experienced before makes him giddy, and he wants to laugh with exhilaration. _

_ Something nudges his consciousness, and he turns his attention back to the monster before them. The second presence moves in tandem with him, guiding Their body swiftly across shattered glass and ruined floor tiles as They leap into the air with ethereal white-green fire bubbling at Their paws. _

_ As They throw fire, sink Their teeth into flesh, and rake at the beast with Their obsidian-black claws, Danny feels… he feels... _

_...who’s Danny? _

_ They are the Halfa. They know that those names have some significance, but they escape Their memory. No matter. There are human auras lingering at the edges of the pavilion, and despite the fact that They are a spirit, They feel some odd attachment to the three human beings, driving them to feel pathetic empathy. So They must protect them. How inconvenient. _

_ Why would they feel so inclined to defend mortal humans when They can hear the song of every plane all at once, a beautiful symphony incomprehensible to human ears? They wish to finish this scuffle promptly so They can return to the Spirit Realm and lie in ethereal starlight, merely listening to the ever-present song of the universe.  _

_ Ah, now that They think about it… They have another form. Two, in fact. Yet if those two forms cannot comprehend or hear the sound of the Earth singing, whistling quietly as multiple realms whirl past one another, as the wingbeats of butterflies thrum and the warbling of birds at dawn whispers gently in Their ears, then what is the point of splitting from one being into two? _

_ There is a reason. There must be. _

_ Very well. When the fight is done, They will try to understand the simplistic minds of the two Beings that led to Their existence. _

* * *

Jazz watches in a mixture of amazement and horror as her brother transforms into the biggest fox she’s ever seen, burning with ghostly flame, before letting out a savage snarl and launching himself at the much larger monster without hesitation. As teeth flash in the dingy light, scales reflecting eye-straining neon storefront lights, and flame leaves ghostly afterimages across her vision, Jazz can’t help but think that this whole clash is mesmerizing, in a way. Something about hearing impossibly-powerful blows cracking against scaly skin like gunshots, the animalistic snarls of her brother, and the eardrum-rupturing bellows of the beast itself root her in place, awestruck.

Viscous, iridescent blood like oil in a street gutter sprays across the floor, hissing and melting everything it touches. The monster screams. Jazz slaps her hands over her ears, suddenly jarred out of her stupor. The action doesn’t seem to help, as the sound is so cataclysmic that she feels it in her chest, rattling her ribs and shaking her to the core. In response, Danny’s jaws move and form words that don’t make sense in Jazz’s head, flitting just out of her mind’s grasp like minnows in shallow water. 

The monster says something back in the same strange tongue, and Danny lashes his three white-tipped tails and lunges for it once more. The long, bedraggled black mane of hair that runs down the monster’s neck drips with rivulets of its own oily blood as it lets out a screeching wail. 

It staggers around, tossing its head and clawing at Danny as it tries to pry him off its throat, and as it does, it rapidly moves closer to where Jazz is standing. She sucks in a sharp gasp of air, ducking to the side as its massive, ever-shifting tail slams into the floor where she’d been standing a heartbeat earlier. Only then does she make an active effort to find cover.

She doesn’t have to search for long, because movement from the left catches her attention. 

For whatever reason, Sam Manson is kneeling behind a few overturned benches, waving urgently at Jazz as Tucker stares at the battling spirits with a look of indescribable terror sitting firmly in place on his features. With a quick glance at the monster and her brother, Jazz deems it safe enough to make a break for Danny’s friends and tears across the uneven floor until she reaches their hiding place, skidding behind it on her knees.

Sam and Jazz stare at each other in silence for a few moments before Jazz hisses, “ _ How long has this been going on with Danny?!” _

_ “You’re smart, you know  _ exactly  _ how long it’s been going on!”  _ Sam snaps back.

Hanging unspoken between them is the answer:  _ Since the accident. _

They don’t bicker any longer, though, their attention immediately turning back to where Danny somehow manages to wrestle the monster’s head to the floor, its iridescent blood staining his white chest fur. It tries to claw at him feebly with a rattling hiss, but it’s greatly weakened from blood loss and Danny easily leans away from its grasp. 

Just when all seems to be going well, there’s a flash of blue and orange from the rubble that had (previously) blocked the entrance that catches the three spectators’ attention. 

“Oh, for  _ God’s sake,”  _ Jazz growls under her breath as she recognizes the hazmat-clad forms of her parents, powering up some of their godforsaken anti-spirit weapons--

\--wait. 

Anti-spirit weapons.

_ Danny is a spirit. _

Before Jazz can open her mouth to warn Danny or distract her parents, Maddie shouts, “ _ EAT SPIRIT-SNIPER, ETHEREAL SCUM!!” _

The gun in her hands, which somewhat resembles your typical hunting rifle, lights up with an otherworldly green light before firing a twisting beam of equally-green energy with a mechanical hissing sound. Danny seems to notice it, but not before it’s too late. 

He yelps in pain, launching himself away from the pinned monster as a horrendous green burn hisses across his shoulder and neck. His blazing eyes grow wide, no longer intimidating but terrified. 

As Maddie readies her weapon again, Danny’s attention flicks from the downed monster to her and back again. He seems to suck in a deep breath before letting it out heavily, steeling himself for something. 

Jazz, for one terrifying moment, thinks that he’s giving up.

To her great relief, though, he bares his abnormally-long canine teeth-- which now glow with the same fire that burns at his paws-- and bites the monster one last time with an oddly meaningful precision that makes Jazz think that it isn’t just a spiteful last attack before bounding away down the hall, deeper into Amity mall. 

Jazz doesn’t stick around to see her parents catch the monster.

As if sharing the same mind, she, Sam, and Tucker rise as one and slink away down the hall in the direction Danny had gone.

* * *

_ They are no longer stable. _

_ Where They once were whole, a single being blessed with the ability to hear the music and see the colours of every plane at all times, They feel Themself splitting apart, Their thoughts deviating, splitting, becoming chaotic-- _

**_I will protect the boy--_ **

_ God, everything hurts so  _ **_much--_ **

**_I will heal him, I need to--_ **

_ I want to go home, I want this to stop, make it stop--! _

**_We must--_ **

_ I can’t-- _

_ Every  _

_ Thing _

**_Hurts_ **

_ Who am I? Who are we? Who am I what am I where do I belong who am I who  _ **_am I--_ **

“Danny?”

_ The strange voice makes Them Us Me You, Who? Who? Jump and bare Our teeth in the direction of the sound. A trio of humans-- friends? Family? Who? Who are you? Who am I? Why are you  _ **_HERE--_ ** _ stands in the doorway of the dark, dusty bathroom They slunk into while Our wounds healed. _

_ He merely gives the humans the best growl We can manage, but the humans are not fooled. We end up shuffling back, further into the bathroom and away from the humans. We should not be frightened of humans, let alone cowering away from them, but He She They We You are too weak, too confused, too conflicted to face them. _

_ The red-haired human girl takes a deep breath.  _ “You know, when I say that you can tell me anything, I  _ mean _ anything. Even stuff like this. Every secret you tell me, I’ll keep locked up tight. Got it, little brother?”

_ That term stirs something in Our mind.  _

_ Danny.  _

_ Little brother. _

_...little brother... _

_...I am little brother. _

_ … _

_ Jazz. Sam. Tucker. _

_ Jazz… _

**_Jazz._ **

_ As the pieces finally fall into place, We… We finally... _

_ We _

_ Split _

_ Into  _

**_Two._ **

As soon as Danny feels himself fall back into a form he’s used to, he, strangely, feels an overwhelming emptiness in his chest. He no longer hears the song of the universe embracing him like a warm hug after a nightmare, humming as colours unknown to the human eye paint his world in tones he can’t remember now that he’s himself once more. He just hears the creaking rubble settling in the halls, the distant sounds of Jack and Maddie shouting at the monster he’d fought, and the sounds of Jazz, Sam, and Tucker’s footsteps drawing closer to him in the bathroom. 

And the thought that he may never hear that music again makes a lump in his throat.

At the same time, though… he’d lost himself. He forgot who he was. Danny wasn’t Danny anymore, he just… ceased to exist. There was nothing  _ but _ the music and colour, no emotion, no memories, no autonomy,  _ nothing.  _

In that moment, as he brings a trembling hand up to wipe at his face, he realizes he’s fine with never seeing or hearing all that stuff again as long as he never loses himself like he did. This will never,  _ ever _ happen again. He won’t let it. He’ll die before he lets it.

For the first time since the accident, Danny feels pressure behind his rapidly-blurring vision and doesn’t make any attempt to stop it. He lets his emotions out in all their ugly glory, feeling his chest convulse as heavy sobs wrack his battered and bruised frame. 

“I… I’m back. I’m me,” he chokes out. “I’m back. I’m Danny. I’m Danny. I’m me.”

He startles slightly when Jazz kneels in front of him, but his racing heart slows once more when he realizes that it’s not a threat. It’s not another monster, ghost, spirit, or human trying to attack him. It’s Jazz. Jazz is safe, she’ll keep this secret, she won’t tell Mom and Dad--

“Yeah. You’re Danny,” she murmurs in that tone she saves for moments like these when everything seems to come crashing down around him, the one that lets Danny know that everything’s gonna be okay.

Despite knowing that Jazz is the safest person in his life, an untouchable haven that never falters in her support, Danny’s hands tremble as he reaches for her blazer. He only slumps forward when he feels her hands curve around to embrace him, pulling him close and rubbing soothing circles into his back.

“Shh, it’s alright. It’s okay. Everything’s gonna be alright. I promise.” 

With that admittance, Danny feels the pain and exhaustion catch up to him all at once. Everything from the agonizing throbbing of his shoulder, the ache of his still-healing bones and organs, the taste of coppery blood in his mouth, and the whole emotional rollercoaster that came with it hits him all at once, and he promptly loses consciousness wrapped in his sister’s arms.

* * *

In the minute or so between the time Danny returned to a mostly-human form and passed out, Jazz went into what Danny likes to call ‘Jazz Overdrive’, in which her world narrows to a single point of focus. During ‘Jazz Overdrive’, Jazz tends to go on full autopilot, issuing commands and becoming a problem-solving juggernaut. In this case, she tossed her keys at Sam, snapped at her to bring the car to the southwest employee doors, and immediately went through her step-by-step list of how to bring Danny out of a panic attack.

Typically, Jazz is excellent at handling other people’s panic attacks. This time, though? She’s never seen Danny worked into such a frenzy, his eyes wide and teary, shivering uncontrollably and repeating his own name to himself like a grounding mantra. It’s almost too much. 

Despite that, she manages to calm him down, after which point he passes out, and she shuts down her ‘Jazz Overdrive’ mode to take stock of the rest of the situation. 

For starters, Danny is, of course, still Danny, albeit with quite a few aesthetic alterations. Where his hair had always been a glossy black, it’s now such a brilliant white that it almost gives off an otherworldly glow. His eyes, as well, have no sclera she can pick out and glow solid green, only marked by glowing-white pupils. To top it all off, he has ears not unlike a Tolkien elf, black nails, and longer, pointed canine teeth. 

_ Well. This is certainly going to be a bitch to explain to Mom and Dad. _

Choosing to not open that can of worms for now, she looks around to focus on the rest of the situation. Apparently, Tucker had opted to stay with her and Danny, and now kneels beside Jazz with a sympathetic yet exhausted look trained on his friend. For a time, neither of them speak, merely savouring the temporary downtime they have until Sam sends them a text saying she’s gotten the car. 

As they sit in mutual silence, Jazz lets her mind drift to further take in every aspect of the situation. Specifically, Danny’s shift from ethereal spirit-dog to human boy.

Jazz will never be afraid of her brother… but the sound of his bones cracking, snapping, creaking as they turn from canine to human, in addition to the way his body twists and contorts in unnatural ways, bones shifting and reshaping under his skin?  _ That _ certainly comes close. At most, it makes her afraid  _ for  _ him rather than  _ of _ him.

Logically, nothing living can have their body move like that in a way that’s completely painless. It wouldn’t make sense. But then again, does  _ any _ of this make sense? She hopes the transformation is painless. It would make accepting this new side of Danny much easier, knowing it doesn’t cause him unnecessary pain.

After briefly checking to see if Danny reacts to any outside stimuli-- namely, poking him in the ribs, which is the most ticklish point on his body-- Jazz takes a deep breath through her teeth and gently lets Danny down to check his injury. She’s always been alright with injuries and blood, but when she sees the full extent of his grievous wound, her stomach lurches dangerously.

His t-shirt is shredded and charred almost beyond recognition, and it’s crusted with drying remnants of the weirdly-glowing green blood that oozes from the injury. The wound itself gives off the smell of ozone and burning plastic, almost pungent enough to make Jazz gag, but she breathes through her teeth and lets her hands start doing the first-aid work for her.

As she uses her blazer to wipe the blood from her brother’s face and clothes, she forces her mind to sift back through the images burned into her head of the transformation to study it further. If nothing else, it’ll help her ignore the fact that Danny’s mortally wounded.

When Jazz recounts the memory of his transformation, she recalls that his black fur turned snow-white, and then interestingly enough, melted off of him like water off a duck’s back, pooling beneath his kneeling, hunched figure before reforming into an odd blob-like entity. Speaking of which, she finally tears her eyes away from Danny to investigate the blob… and finds something in its place.

A white-and-grey dog with half-perked ears and blue-green eyes stands tiredly on four large paws. It’s not any purebred dog breed that Jazz can discern, but it’s built like a pitbull with colouration somewhat reminiscent of a husky or shepherd. So she assumes it’s a mutt with at least one of those breeds mixed in somewhere.

Yet as much as she wants to believe that it’s just a stray or someone’s lost pet, the eerily-human intelligence in its eyes is enough to dispel that hope. When she meets its gaze, she feels as though she’s looking into the soul of an ancient god, filled with many millenia’s worth of knowledge and glimmering with the last embers of unimaginable power Jazz likely will never be able to comprehend. 

Its lips don’t move, but the dog doesn’t break eye contact as it speaks within her mind. 

**_I apologize. My duty is to protect him, and in that regard, I have failed._ **

Jazz feels every muscle in her body grow taut as piano wire, her heart skipping a beat and her breath catching in her throat. She and Tucker exchange an equally-horrified glance before they once again focus on its eerie blue eyes.

The dog sighs, and the voice once again echoes in Jazz’s head.  **_Had I had a choice, I would have taken on his wound as my own so he does not need to suffer._ **

“T… Tucker? Do you hear--?” Jazz trails off as Tucker gives a jerky nod.

“Yeah. I hear it.”

The dog raises her head to look at them, radiating a level of dignity and power Jazz definitely knows wouldn’t come from a normal dog.  **_I assume this is quite a lot to take in, but I can explain at a later time. Perhaps once the boy is stable._ **

“... Th-that’s a good idea… “ Jazz manages to choke out lamely, at which the dog’s lips twitch upward in a vague approximation of a smile. 

Tucker’s phone chirps from his pocket, and after taking a moment to check his screen, he shoves it back in his pocket and rises to his feet. “Sam says she’s parked at the southwest employee doors. We should go.”

With a curt nod, Jazz leans forward to scoop Danny into her arms. With a grunt of effort, she rises slowly to her feet, supporting Danny under his knees and shoulders with the utmost care. Once she’s certain she won’t drop him, she turns to the door, brows furrowed in concentration. “Alright. Let’s get out of here.”

Tucker gives her a curt nod before scrambling to his feet and leading the way out through the bathroom door, spirit-dog in tow. 

They weave through the wreckage, detouring around burst water pipes and exposed electrical cables, avoiding minefields of shattered glass, overturned flower planters, and collapsed roof sections. All the while, the spirit-dog remains vigilant, her eerie, ancient eyes scanning every single doorway and hall they pass for threats. In a way, it’s both comforting and off-putting; comforting because Jazz is pretty sure she can’t just alligator-wrestle a spirit monster the way Danny probably can, and off-putting because she’s still not super comfortable with the thought that some ancient deity is just padding along beside her like a family pet. Who  _ would _ be?

Eventually, when they reach a different food court marking a dead-end hallway, the spirit-dog lets out an audible huff and glances over her shoulder at Tucker and Jazz.  **_I am unfamiliar with this building, but it seems we’ve reached a dead end. Shall we search for another exit?_ **

Jazz shakes her head as she adjusts her grip on her brother. “No, this is exactly where we need to be.”

Tucker shoots her a confused look at those words, but follows her to the employee entrance nearly invisible in the darkness from the loss of electricity. A coded lock glows red-orange from just below the handle, but this is no issue for Jazz. She calls for Tucker, who jogs up with the spirit-dog at his heels before grinning impishly at the sight of the lock.

Before he can pull his trusty PDA out of his back pocket, however, Jazz speaks. “The code is 4242.”

Tucker splutters for a moment, eyes wide. “What-- how the  _ hell _ do you know that?”

“I worked here for a summer as a janitor. They change the codes for the doors every month, but only cycle between 5 codes. This month’s is probably 4242.”

Tucker quickly punches in the code, which makes the light flicker from red to green before he tries the handle and pulls the door open. As they make their way down the long, narrow corridor, he remarks, “I didn’t know you worked here.”

“It was the graveyard shift. And you’re Danny’s friends, not mine. It makes sense you wouldn’t know.”

“Oh. Okay, yeah that makes a lot of sense.”

From there they walk onward in silence, the soft thuds of their shoes and the clicking of the spirit-dog’s nails on the tile being the only sound to echo down the hall. Jazz’s two odd companions stick close to her side as they go, probably out of necessity as she’s the only one who knows the right direction, but it still makes Jazz feel somewhat comforted. These halls have always given her ‘the creeps’, as Danny would say, and traversing them with another person is a lot less eerie.

Despite that, seeing the glow of the EXIT sign around the next corner is a welcome sight. Jazz feels herself pick up the pace a bit, glancing anxiously down at her brother before looking ahead once more. 

Tucker jogs ahead and shoves the door open, holding it for the dog and Jazz before hastily kicking it closed at the same time Jazz sees her little car parked halfway up on the curb about twenty feet away. Sam sits in the passenger seat, probably having moved seats when she sent Tucker the text, and cheekily reaches over to smack the horn when she sees them barrel out of the employee doors.

Immediately, Tucker jogs up to the car to wrench the back door open. The dog leaps up into the car, seating herself on the far side before Tucker climbs in. Jazz then gingerly loads Danny into the back seat, waiting until she’s certain that Tucker has a firm hold on him before slamming the door and running around to jump into the driver’s seat. 

In a very un-Jazz-like fashion, Jazz doesn’t check if everyone’s seatbelts are buckled before she presses on the gas and navigates out of the parking lot and onto the main roads. There’s not much traffic, thankfully, and she’s glad she doesn’t have to pull up a map on her phone to navigate through Amity Park. She has a very specific destination in mind, having decided on it the moment she saw the not-so-human side of her brother.

As Jazz switches lanes, Sam asks, “Soooo… where are we headed?”

“I know a guy who doesn’t ask questions about weird stuff like this. He lives alone, in a quiet duplex. He’ll help us. Probably.” 

“Who?” Tucker pipes up, to which Jazz bites her lip and hesitates before replying in a halting voice.

“He’s a kid I was  _ sort of _ a counsellor for in your first year. He… had some personal issues I helped him work through, and he’s the subject of my college entry thesis.”

Sam gives Jazz a weird look. “Wait, you’re talking about--?”

“Yep,” she sighs, leaving no room for further conversation. “That’s the guy.”

* * *

Jazz walks up to the front door alone. 

She’d rather not startle her friend, regardless of whether or not he  _ is _ pretty nonchalant about anything and everything, so she leaves Danny in the car with his friends and walks up to the duplex’s front door with a heavy sigh. She’s acutely aware of the neon green blood painting her shirt like a bowling alley carpet, hissing as it slowly evaporates in the thin drizzle that falls from the heavy grey clouds above, but tries to ignore it. There are other, far more important things to worry about.

When she knocks on the wooden door, it doesn’t take long before her friend opens it with his usual disinterested expression. That is, however, right up until his dark blue eyes drift down to the fluorescent green stains on Jazz’s shirt and make him pause. Then, with a vaguely unimpressed look, he mumbles, “I swear to God, if this is another one of your weird extra credit art projects--”

“It’s not! It’s... it’s not,” Jazz stammers, before sucking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “Something… happened to my brother. And he needs to lie low for a bit. Can he stick around here for a day or so? J-just until he’s… he’s better…”

His brows raise ever-so-slightly before the young man runs his pale, bony fingers along the distinctive black mohawk that crowns his head and shrugs. “Guess so. Long as he’s not got a shit music taste.”

The tension washes out of Jazz, leaving her weak-kneed with relief. “Thank you  _ so  _ much, Spike. I owe you one.”

Spike grunts noncommittally. “We’re friends, it’s fine. Don’t pay me back. Where’s the kid?”

“Give me a second.”

As her friend waits on the front step, pulling a cigarette out of his hoodie pocket to casually light it, Jazz makes her way back down the sidewalk to where Sam and Tucker wait in the car. She doesn’t even have to give a signal, because Sam wastes no time in leaping out onto the sidewalk.  At the same time, Tucker kicks the spirit-dog out of the car and scrambles out afterward to help Sam drag Danny out of the back seat.

Jazz opens her mouth to offer help, but the warning look Sam shoots her tells her that they have it under control. Which is good with Jazz. They do just fine on their own, rushing him up the front walk and into Spike’s little duplex as Jazz shuts the car door and jogs after them. It’s by this time that Spike seems to grasp the weight of the situation. Perhaps it’s the fact that Danny looks like a corpse, or perhaps it’s the glowing green blood and his elf-like appearance, but Spike’s eyes go wide and his hand freezes halfway to his cigarette. As he stares after Sam and Tucker in an almost-comedic manner, a strange chill passes over them and an accompanying puff of wind puts out Spike’s cigarette as well as knocking it forcefully from his mouth onto the step. 

If Jazz didn’t know any better… she’d say it almost looks like someone snatched the cigarette from her friend’s mouth and threw it down.

...Well, stranger things  _ have _ happened. 

When Jazz reaches the step again with a curious glance at the discarded cigarette, Spike’s head whips around and he chokes out, “Jazz, what the  _ fuck--” _

She crosses her arms loosely with a sigh. “I’ll explain later. For now, just  _ help me.” _

After several heart-stopping moments where Spike seems to wrestle with his thoughts, he drags a hand down his face and mumbles, “Okay. Fine.  _ Fine. _ I’ll get the first aid kit.”

* * *

The world comes back to Danny in pieces.

First, he picks up on the soothing hum of muted voices. Then, the sound of a fan humming quietly from his left, followed by the feeling of cool air brushing over his skin. 

From there, he grows slowly more aware of his surroundings and situation. 

Including the burning, throbbing ache stretching from his left shoulder to jaw, the clammy feeling of feverish sweat sticking to his skin and dampening his clothes, the smell of toaster waffles, and something soft and warm pressed flush against his right side. Then, the memories of what had transpired at the mall come rushing back in full force, like waves crashing against a reef, and panic makes his heart pound and even more sweat to pour into his shaking palms. 

Something-- no, some _ one-- _ is still sharing his body. It’s alive, straining to steal away his autonomy, an ominous rumble rattling around in his head, and he feels himself subconsciously forcing it back. Whatever ‘it’ is. 

As he opens his bleary eyes, however, the odd warmth shifts and a grey-and-white face fills his field of view. A dog…?

He opens his mouth, wanting to say something,  _ anything _ to ground himself even more strongly in reality… but the dog raises a paw and presses it gently over his mouth, effectively hushing him. Shortly after that, a kind, warm voice like early morning sunshine carefully eases its way into his head and murmurs,  **_Hush, child. You are safe. Everyone is safe._ **

Despite her words-- the dog’s words-- Danny can’t help the doubt that wriggles its way into his chest.  **_What if they aren’t?_ **

Barely a heartbeat later, the dog’s voice returns to his mind, and her reply makes him stiffen with apprehension.  **_They are. My Essence and yours are linked, and as such, I feel the intense loyalty to them that you do. I would not let anything harm a hair on their heads._ **

At her explanation, Danny feels relief flood him from head to toes. Yet it doesn’t last long, his mind almost immediately zeroing in on how the  _ hell _ the dog-- presumably Ayla-- had picked up on his thoughts so accurately. After swallowing hard, he opens his mouth and says in a hoarse voice, “How’d you know what I was thinking?”

**_When you and I fused, I transferred my spiritual energy to you. It will stay there forever, but in exchange for that burden, you now have access to many more of your Halfa abilities. One of which is the ability to directly project your words into others’ heads and use your Essence to block out unwanted intrusion. I believe humans call it Telepathy._ **

A week ago, Danny would’ve been excited beyond comprehension about suddenly having telepathic powers. Now, though? It feels as though yet another heavy weight has been thrust upon his shoulders. With a heavy sigh, he folds his arms over his eyes, ignoring the soreness that shoots through his left side, and says, “Oh, great.”

A pause.

**_I understand that this is incredibly difficult for you,_ ** Ayla says slowly,  **_but I will be here to help you along the way. Whether you choose to actively pursue the supernatural or attempt to live a mundane, normal life, spirits will cross your path. You will need to know how to combat them, and I will teach you. I will teach you about Voice, Wards, Gateways, Transformation--_ **

“ _ No,” _ Danny hisses before she can finish. “I’m  _ not _ transforming. Not again.”

**_...You may not have a choice, child._ **

His skin crawls at her words. As he lowers his arms from where they cover his eyes, leveling a scowl at the dog sitting beside him, he feels his stomach lurch at the thought of losing himself like he did. “It’s not gonna happen again. I won’t let it.”

Something like sympathy or sadness glimmers in Ayla’s eyes for a moment before she lowers her head, heaves a sigh, and curls up pressed against Danny’s side again.  **_I… will do my best to assist you with that._ **

In spite of the comfort her words bring him, he can’t bring himself to relax. Not when he can feel whatever the  _ thing _ was pacing around within him, growling in his head as it tests its boundaries. Danny tenses, forcing the beast back and imagining it being contained in a cage. It doesn’t help, of course, but it seems to withdraw with a low snarl. 

He only has to deal with it until he finds a way to get rid of it for good. If he can.  _ God,  _ he hopes he can. 

As much as he’d like to stay in bed-- which he now realizes is  _ not _ his own-- he forces himself to sit up and looks at his shoulder. He can’t quite remember what happened to it, other than someone yelling and a flash of green light, but he knows  _ something _ did, because the evidence is branded into his skin.

It’s an ugly, puckered thing that covers his left shoulder, part of his upper arm, and creeps up his neck. Ridges and valleys span the entirety of its surface like the topographical map on the wall of Lancer’s classroom, and Danny doesn’t have to know anything about scars to know that this one is permanent. Danny swallows hard, bringing his right hand up to run his fingers over it. 

Other than faint pressure wherever his fingers touch, Danny can’t feel  _ anything. _ It’s like someone put a thick layer of rubber between his skin and his hand, and it’s unnerving. His stomach lurches.

At his side, Ayla raises her head to watch him curiously. She must notice something in Danny’s expression, because she pushes herself up into a seated position once again and says,  **_I apologize. I should have shielded you from the blast._ **

“You don’t have to apologize,” Danny mumbles, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “Neither of us were in control, right? It was the monster’s fault for not paying attention.”

**_Monster?_ ** Ayla echoes as she hops off the bed and approaches him,  **_Oh, that. It’s not a monster, it’s your--_ **

_ “It’s a monster,” _ Danny interrupts bluntly.

As he reaches up to rub at his eyes, he feels a familiar chill prodding at his consciousness and feels some of the tension melt out of him. A tiny smile finds its way to his face. “Hey, guys.”

In front of him, Alvin and Sidney phase through the wall with relief written in every inch of their forms. After a moment of silence, Sidney shoots forward so fast his form distorts, crashing into Danny and throwing chilly arms around his neck. The force makes Danny stagger backwards a few steps, sucking in a sharp breath at the cold embrace, then rights himself and awkwardly returns it.  **_I’m SO glad you’re not dead!!_ **

With a hesitant laugh, Danny replies, “If I died, I’d just be a ghost. You’d still be stuck with me.”

**_Not everyone becomes a ghost when they die,_ ** Alvin says sharply,  **_and that’s not any less terrifying of a possibility. We don’t_ ** **want** **_to see the living die. Get that into your head._ **

The harsh ring of Alvin’s voice makes Danny’s eyes grow wide with surprise and Sidney back away from him with a somber look. Danny’s never seen Alvin this angry at  _ him _ specifically, and he doesn’t like the way it makes his heart pound with anxiety. In an effort to quell the nerves that rise up in his throat at the realization that he’s pissed off one of the few ghosts who doesn’t want to kill him, he drops his gaze to the floor. “S-sorry. I didn’t know.”

A few tense moments pass where Danny isn’t sure what’ll happen, but he feels a wave of relief wash over him when the hostility fades from Alvin’s Essence.  **_I know. Sorry for snapping at you like that._ **

“It’s fine.”

When it seems the charged situation has passed, Sidney chews his lip as though he has something to say. Danny’s about to ask him what’s wrong, when the ghost reaches up to adjust his round glasses and slowly asks,  **_So… is your new look, uh, permanent?_ **

Danny’s blood runs cold. “My new what?”

Alvin drags a hand down his face in exasperation.  **_I told the kid not to bring it up until your sister did, but I guess we’re doing this now--_ **

“ _ What do I look like,”  _ Danny chokes out through barely-responsive lips at the same moment Ayla nudges his leg. 

When he looks down at her, she murmurs,  **_Follow me,_ ** and leads the way to the bedroom door. The muffled voices grow more clear and distinct when he opens it, and he recognizes one as Jazz, but rather than calling out for her, he lightens his steps in the hopes that he won’t be noticed. Regardless of how badly he wants to ask her what went down at the mall and what she thinks of… all this.

Ayla leads him down the hall to the open door of a small bathroom. He quietly flicks the light on, taking in the state of the room briefly before stepping inside. The little room is pretty tidy, the only clutter being the bottles of hair gel, piercing disinfectant, and toothpaste lining the counter next to a skull-shaped mug with a toothbrush propped up inside it. As expected of a small duplex like this, the paint is a bland beige colour and everything is pretty old-style. Which means it clashes hilariously with the black-and-red Slipknot shower curtain and black bathmat that sports a white pentagram across the centre of it. 

Once he’s finished stalling, he takes a deep breath and steps inside to face just what his eldritch transformation has done to his appearance… and what he sees makes his heart stop beating.

His hair is what he notices first. Mostly because he’s used to seeing himself with black hair and the hair that he currently has is an ethereal, glowing white. Elf-like ears poke out from the unfamiliar hair, moving accordingly when Danny tenses his jaw. Below that, solid green eyes give off an eerie light as white pupils stare at him from his reflection, his once-dark smattering of freckles now lighting up with a green as intense as his eyes and making barely-visible silhouettes of the blood vessels beneath his skin. To top it all off, when Danny opens his mouth, he notices that his canine teeth are now about an inch long and pointed, like the teeth of an animal. 

After he processes his appearance, he leans forward to rest his elbows on the counter, then drops his face into his hands with a defeated groan. He thought he’d be able to handle it when he finally got a look at himself, but he’s not so sure now. 

_ What the  _ hell _ am I gonna say to Mom and Dad? Will they even want me as their kid anymore? Or will they just dissect me in the hopes that they’ll ‘save’ me? _

He digs his fingertips into his skin. He… doesn’t know what to do. What  _ can _ he do?

At some point during his stupor, Ayla had left her spot standing in the doorway and gone to fetch Jazz. So when Danny hears her call his name softly, he’s not prepared for it and flinches violently in alarm. He snaps his head up, staring anxiously at his sister. For a time, they hold each other’s eyes silently. Then, after what could’ve been either a heartbeat or an eternity, Jazz takes a breath and enters the bathroom, placing a hand on Danny’s shoulder and looking at their reflections in the mirror.

“I…” Danny begins before quickly looking away from his reflection again, “...What am I gonna do? I’m a freak.”

Jazz hums thoughtfully for a moment. Then, she replies in a matter-of-fact tone, “I could dye my hair white too. Maybe get a face tattoo. Then we’d both be freaks.”

The suggestion is so unexpected that after staring at Jazz in disbelief, Danny laughs. It feels nice to laugh, Danny finds, and in his momentary lapse in bad mood, he snorts, “Mom would have a stroke.”

“Yeah,” Jazz chuckles, “Dad would probably compare us to kids from his college days or something.”

“ _ God,  _ no.”

When their hushed laughter dies down, the somber mood once again sets in and Danny risks another look at his reflection. “Thanks for, um. For trying to cheer me up. But what am I  _ really  _ gonna do? I can’t go home, not like this. Mom and Dad will  _ literally  _ kill me.”

Jazz squeezes his shoulder. “If all else fails, we can jump in my car and just  _ go. _ I’ll pick up a job somewhere and we’ll make a life for ourselves.”

“This sounds suspiciously like your backup plan for when I came out to them.”

“It’s a valid plan,” Jazz says with a shrug, “and now that I actually have a car and job experience, it’s a lot more plausible. As in, we can actually go through with it.”

Danny reaches up once again to trace the burn scar from his shoulder to where it ends, just beginning to creep across his cheek. “I… thanks, but you have a future at Harvard. I don’t want you to give that up ‘cuz of me--”

Effectively cutting him off, Jazz turns Danny to face her, placing both hands on his shoulders and leveling him with a dead-serious look. “If you think Harvard is more important to me than family, then you’re more dense than Dash Baxter.”

The disdainful way she says Dash’s name makes Danny stifle a laugh, but he knows she’s right. He knows she’d give up her chance at such a prestigious school if he needed her help, but it doesn’t make him feel any less guilty. Jazz might not care too much about losing her chance, but Danny knows he’d beat himself up over it for the rest of his life. 

**_I’m sorry to interrupt you two,_ ** Ayla’s voice suddenly cuts into Danny’s head, and both he and Jazz turn to look at the dog seated in the doorway,  **_but your appearance is not permanent._ **

_ “What,” _ Danny and Jazz hiss in unison, and Ayla shakes herself.

**_To summarize, you are a living gateway between a specific point in the Third, Second, and First Planes through which your Essence-- your energy as a spirit-- can flow. Which means that you merely need to switch which Plane your Essence is flowing through._ **

“Okay, can you repeat that again but dumbed down to like… a toddler’s level? Because I did not get that at all,.” Danny mumbles as he rubs at his face.

Ayla snorts in vague annoyance at his tone, but obliges, which Danny is exceedingly grateful for.  **_A Halfa is a being whose Essence, whose very soul, traverses between multiple planes of existence while both their vessels-- human and spirit-- remain split. As such, your spirit form-- a Halfa’s True Form-- has sentience of its own. As you’re already aware, it is a selfish creature driven only by your deepest fears and will constantly fight for control over you._ **

At her words, Danny tightens his hold on the creature Ayla mentions, swallowing hard. Jazz shoots him a concerned look, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. So, Ayla continues.

**_Currently, your Essence is flowing through the Second Plane and affecting your appearance and abilities on the First Plane. So you merely need to ‘close the gate’ and block the flow of energy. Of course, some of your Essence will always seep through and affect your sense of perception on the First Plane, but at least you will return to your human form._ **

“Okay, so how do I do that?” Danny prods, unable to keep the impatience out of his voice.

Ayla clearly catches wind of it, as she flicks an ear and her lips twitch as though she’s fighting off a smile.  **_I imagine you’re keeping your True Form in line at the moment. The reason you can fight it back so effectively is because you’ve firmly blocked off the Third Plane. As such, all you need to do is just that, while focusing on your own Essence._ **

As much as he’d like to ask for a more dumbed-down explanation, Danny holds off on it in the hopes that he won’t annoy her more than he already has. So, he backs out of Jazz’s hold and sucks in a deep breath through his nose. As he lets it out, he closes his eyes and tries to envision what Ayla explained.

He ignores the incomprehensible language that his True Form-- no, no, that’s not  _ me, that’s not my True Form-- _ hurls at him with scorching venom, delving deeper into himself and trying, trying,  _ trying _ to get a grip on it… and after god-knows-how long, he feels something click in his head.

He tightens his grip on the shackles that hold back the monster, which only makes it howl with rage, and tries to apply that to the otherworldly flow of Essence that ripples through him. It takes a fair bit of time for him to finally get a proper grip on it, but finally,  _ finally,  _ he feels his skin crawl, the inhumanly-warm energy in his veins retreat, and feels himself slip back into, well, himself.

When he opens his eyes and glances in the mirror, his own  _ human _ face stares back at him. Other than the ugly scar marring his shoulder, neck, and cheek, he’s back to normal. He’s  _ Danny _ again. He’s fine, he can go home, he won’t have to run away, he’s  _ normal-- _

“You look a lot better,” Jazz remarks in a teasing tone, which Danny can’t help but smile at.

“I  _ feel _ a lot better.” He sighs in relief. “I feel  _ human _ again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, Jazz doesn't have any canon friends for some reason. The closest thing she had to a friend was Johnny 13 and that doesn't count bc he was taking advantage of her and brainwashed her for most of their interactions. So I dragged Spike from s1e1 and made him relevant because Butch Hartman won't. 
> 
> Speaking of Jazz, I'm pretty sure yall know understand just how much I love her. I mean she had so much unexplored potential in the show, she's the only member of the Fenton family who actually knows abt Danny's secret, she could've been such a grounding presence for Danny tbh. Sorry for going off there, I just. really love sibling/found-family relationships.
> 
> Sorry if the illustrations don't look as nice as usual, I've been having a weird week ajgvhdvlcd
> 
> Find me here!!
> 
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> 
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> 
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>    
> And a huge thank you to [Aster](http://fingerspellingtopassthetime.tumblr.com/) for putting up with my shit and always beta-reading my stuff!!


	11. exhale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late chapter! I've been hella busy ahgvdsh
> 
> **TW for vomiting**

Danny shovels toaster waffles into his mouth like a starving man, barely coming up for air as he practically inhales Eggo after Eggo. At his side, Ayla watches the food curiously, and sitting at the table are Jazz and Spike. Thankfully, they don’t stare at him wolfing down food like mad, but even if they were, Danny’s not sure he’d find it in himself to care. All he knows is that he’s inhumanly hungry and that he’s been told to take as many waffles as he wants.

And by God, he’s not gonna pass up that opportunity.

It takes some time, but eventually he starts feeling full and lets his mind drift away from food. So perhaps it’s to be expected that his thoughts immediately hone in on the scar peering out from the collar and left sleeve of the oversized shirt he’s wearing. He tries not to look at it, but he can’t help but hyperfixate on the way his skin tightens in a way he’s not used to when he moves his head or left arm. 

Unfortunately, Jazz seems to notice his discomfort and points out, “We did our best to minimize the scarring, but there’s only so much we can do.”

After a pause where Danny tries to find the right words to reply with, he lets out a sigh and drops his gaze back to his plate. “I know, I just… I don’t know what I’m gonna tell Mom and Dad. N-not about the whole ‘spirit’ thing, but the scar.”

Jazz and Spike exchange a glance, then look back at him. With a shrug, Jazz says, “Well, I had two stories in mind. The first lie is pretty simple, we’ll just say you had an accident in the kitchen with hot oil or boiling water. The second is a bit more plausible, and it’ll tie into you being at the mall the other day. We can say you got caught up in the chaos and got burned by dangling electrical cables or fire. I think we should go with the second, since I have no idea how you’d spill hot oil all over your face and shoulder, but I figured I’d ask you first.”

“We’ll go with the second one. I’ll say I don’t remember how I got burned-- which, I mean, isn’t  _ really  _ a lie-- but that I got burned at the mall.” Danny pauses, chewing his lip. “They’re gonna ask about what hospital I was treated at. What’ll we do for tha--”

“Already done. When we brought you here four days ago, I called Mom and Dad saying there was an accident you got caught in and that I was dealing with it. They’re  _ probably _ gonna be furious with me for not taking you to a hospital, but we’ll say I went into a panicked frenzy and took you with me to take care of you.” She smirks. “And that’s not technically a full lie.”

Danny stares at her for a few moments, dumbfounded. This is  _ Jazz, _ fabricating a seamless alibis for the both of them like it’s second nature. The same Jazz who’s notorious for hating any semblance of a lie, the same one who would rather remain completely, deathly silent than deny the truth. It’s baffling, and the same thought must be going through Spike’s head, because he looks just as surprised.

“Who are you and what have you done with my sister?” Danny remarks before he can think better of it, and Jazz shoots him a glare that makes Spike snort in amusement.

Folding his arms across his chest and leaning back so his chair balances precariously on two legs, Spike chuckles, “Kid’s got a point. You literally threatened to burn my shower curtain if I lied to my parents about my future plans.”

“I did  _ not--!” _ Jazz protests, kicking him under the table.

As if on cue, Jazz’s phone buzzes from where it lies on the table and Danny jumps at the unexpected noise. Jazz gives him a reassuring glance before sucking in a deep breath and reaching for her phone. 

Danny doesn’t need to ask to know who it is.

No sooner has Jazz brought the phone to her ear than a furious shriek rips through the receiver.  _ “JAZZ FENTON, YOU TELL ME WHERE YOU AND YOUR BROTHER ARE THIS INSTANT!!” _

With a wince, she holds the phone away from her head and puts it on speaker. As she lays it back down and rests her weight on her folded arms, she says in an incredibly convincing on-the-verge-of-tears voice, “I’m so, so sorry Mom. I just-- I freaked out and I didn’t know what to do! I don’t know what I was thinking, I’m  _ so sorry. _ ”

If it wasn’t for the sly wink Jazz shot in his direction, Danny would have been 100% convinced that she  _ was _ on the verge of tears. It’s as impressive as it is unnerving.

“D-Danny’s okay,” Jazz says with a convincing sniffle, “he got burned in the mall incident a-and there’s a lot of scarring… but he’s awake. I’ll bring him home today, I promise, I’ll pack everything into the car and we’ll be back by--”

_ “Hey, hey, shh,”  _ Maddie’s tinny voice says through the phone, gentle and soothing.  _ “It’s okay. It’s okay. Your father and I were just worried sick about you, and no hospitals had any record of you being checked in there… we didn’t know what to think.” _

“I-I know, I’m sorry--”

_ “It’s okay.” _ A pause.  _ “Is… is Danny free to talk?” _

Danny feels surprise spark in his chest, and Jazz shoots him a questioning look. He’s not sure if it’s the best decision or not, but after taking some time to ponder it, he nods. His sister gives him a small smile before putting on her fake tone again and replying, “He’s here. I’ll h-hand the phone to him now.”

Taking her cue, Danny reaches across the table to pick up the phone gently, switches off speakerphone, rises from his seat, and walks quietly to the hallway. As Jazz and Spike begin chattering away quietly in the kitchen, Danny finally finds it in himself to speak. “Hi, Mom.”

“ _ Oh, my baby boy...” _ Maddie heaves a relieved sigh.  _ “I’m so glad you and your sister are alright. How are you feeling? What happened?” _

“I…” Danny trails off, both for dramatic effect and to gather his thoughts, “...I don’t remember. I remember going to the mall to meet Sam and Tucker, a-and some kind of...monster? Everything else is a blur.”

_ “How badly were you hurt?” _

There’s the question he was expecting. 

WIthout consciously meaning to, his right arm comes up to gingerly squeeze his left shoulder. The numbness of it makes his stomach do flips, but he forces himself to reply. “I have a scar. It’s… it’s  _ really _ not pretty.”

_ “Where is it?” _

Danny chews his lip, absentmindedly noting that despite being in human form, his canine teeth are longer and sharper than they should be. “...You’ll see it when we get home.”

A pause. “ _ Okay, hon. I’m so glad you’re okay.” _

_ ‘Okay’ isn’t exactly how I’d describe it,  _ he thinks to himself.

“Yeah. Me too.”

* * *

Walker’s getting closer to his target. He knows it. 

The surveillance footage he’d acquired from the mall disaster several days prior has been the main focus of his observation, so often replayed that Walker can recall every single minute detail of the disaster from start to end. He picks at his lip nonchalantly, once again replaying the clip on his laptop.

The spirit he’s been hunting-- the monster in human clothes-- enters the mall, but as expected, his entire form is obscured by jumping pixels and harsh static. It follows him from camera to camera, never once lifting and revealing the spirit’s identity, which is inconvenient, but can be worked around. He’s done it before and he will do it again. 

The spirit stops in front of a girl Walker does recognize, Paulina Sanchez, and they exchange a few words before a blue-white apparition flickers at the girl’s feet and vanishes into her form. Walker narrows his eyes, teeth grinding as his face twists in disgust. 

Spirits have no honor, no respect, no morals. They just take what they want, when they want, with not a single concern for what adverse consequences may befall their victim. Walker knows this fact intimately well. Even now, his permanently disfigured hands hum with sickening,  _ evil _ energy beneath his gloves. 

He aggressively pops his knuckles, watching as the human girl screams, convulses, and distorts into something entirely inhuman. It-- no,  _ she-- _ then hunts down the spirit Walker’s been hunting down, destroying cameras with searing-hot scales and acidic blood and saliva. 

She manages to hit the spirit hard enough to send him flying through a window display into an  _ Old Navy _ , where he lies still in a pool of deceptively humanoid blood. After an indeterminate amount of time-- his spiritual energy knocked the camera’s clock out of whack-- he rises, speaks in the language of the dead, and shifts into his true form. 

As the cameras distort wildly in the midst of the spirit battle, Walker notices something he hadn’t noticed before and pauses the video. He shifts the video back a few frames. There!

In the corner of one distorted frame, surrounded by corrupted pixels and warping, are two silhouettes. He zooms in on the image, but the thing is far too grainy for him to make out any distinguishing features.  _ Damn it. _

With a hefty sigh of annoyance, Walker pushes back his desk chair and rises to his feet. Yet as he does so, his phone beeps with an incoming message, and Walker reluctantly reaches over to investigate.

**_Ishiyama (Casper High): 10:04_ **

**_We discovered some more unusual activity on one of the school’s security cameras. I sent it to your e-mail. Hopefully this will help you find what you need._ **

Walker hums thoughtfully, immediately striding back across his hotel room to where his laptop sits out on his desk. Sure enough, a notification bubble stares back at him from his screen.

He watches the video several times over, just to ensure he hasn’t missed anything, then feels a cold, crooked smile slip across his face. He mentally reminds himself to bring the school principal a coffee some morning as thanks for the excellent footage; this will bring him closer to his goal by leaps and bounds. 

Aside from that, the comedic value of the clip alone is enough to convince Walker that taking this job was certainly a good idea.

For now, he’ll focus his efforts on finding the hoodie-clad student ballsy enough to spray-paint a message on the school’s football team supply shed, completely in the language of the dead. Perhaps this strange student is connected to the Kitsune he’s hunting.

* * *

_ I am so  _ SICK _ of this stupid shit. _

Wes Weston has spent over ten years of his life ignoring the dead people and strange creatures he can see that nobody else could. Hell, he would’ve probably gone on ignoring them for the rest of his life if not for the absolute  _ dumbass _ student who seems to be hell-bent on stirring up every single spiritual entity in Amity Park; after all, it’s not like he can actually physically interact with the dead.

He would’ve been just fine pretending nothing was wrong, but now...  **_NOW..._ ** he has to give his way-too-obvious new ‘neighbour’ an equally obvious sign. 

Wes may not be the best at writing, but he doesn’t need to be to write in  _ Morlingua _ , the language of the dead. He doesn’t even care if he made some typos in his rush to dump the message and leave; he’s pretty sure that the phrase and words he used are a universal thing.

He has  _ no idea _ who this kid is, but he knows that when he meets them, they’re gonna get a punch in the throat.

* * *

_ Danny (10:05): _

_ I lived bitch _

_ Tucker (10:05):  _

_ AHGCDKSGVLJHDSJK _

_ Sam (10:05):  _

_ Oh thank god _

_ Finally, someone to talk to who isn’t Tuck _

_ Tucker (10:06): _

_ rude  _

_ Sam (10:06): _

_ im kidding _

_ But seriously, we’re so glad youre okay! _

_ You got seriously fucked up dude _

_ Tucker (10:07): _

_ yeah man _

_ It was scary tbh _

_ You had us worried _

_ Danny (10:08): _

_ Sorry, i really didn’t mean to freak you guys out _

_ I’ll be more careful from now on, I’ll ask Alvin, Sidney and Ayla about more spirit stuff so I don’t get the shit kicked out of me next time hgsdcsv _

_ Or at least not have the shit kicked out of me as badly _

_ Sam (10:09): _

_ No worries, we’re just glad ur ok _

_ and that’s prolly a good idea. _

_ also not to freak you out but the pasty white government guy is really cracking down and hunting for u like crazy. He’s stalking the halls all day. _

_ Dude needs a hobby jfc _

_ Tucker (10:09): _

_ Yeah,,, yknow i’d honestly prefer the big monster u guys fought over this dude. At least spirit monsters can’t arrest me. _

_ Danny (10:09): _

_ yea, but spirits will just straight up kill you _

_ Nobody can bail you out of death like you can bail someone out of jail _

_ Tucker (10:10): _

_ Go big or go home _

_ Sam (10:10): _

_ Tucker what the fuck does this mean _

_ Tucker (10:10): _

_ U heard me _

_ Danny (10:11): _

_ Okay okay enough!!  _

_ anyways , other than Walker, has anything weird happened around the school that I should know about to prevent having a heart attack later? _

_ Sam (10:12): _

_ Yeah, actually.  _

_ Someone left u a message _

_ Tucker (10:12): _

_ yeye! _

_ Its probably the same guy who left us the message abt how to get rid of the wards when you got electrocuted _

_ They’re super pissed at you lmao _

_ Danny (10:13): _

_ h  _

_ why??? are they pissed with me???? _

_ Sam (10:13): _

_ well, we don’t know if they’re pissed or not,,,, _

_ B u t they literally spraypainted a message on the shed where we trapped the boar monster, and it’s all in weird symbols that us pitiful mortals physically can’t make out. Like the words and symbols blur out of focus and stuff if we try to make them out. _

_ There’s conspiracy theories everywhere, like even the a-listers are in on the whole thing. _

_ Danny (10:14): _

_ Oh holy shit _

_ Tucker (10:14): _

_ Yeah and Paulina has some weird scarring bc apparently she got possessed by a spirit and stuff? She’s not really helping the rumor mill, she says she vaguely remembers the mall incident and she saw a fire-breathing black dog that saved her or smth _

_ thats you btw _

_ Danny (10:14) _

_ What _

_ Sam (10:15) _

_ Tucker can you like. Shut ur trap for now before danny has a meltdown _

_ let’s meet up at tucker’s place tonight if ur up for it, we can talk in person. _

_ Tucker (10:15): _

_ Sorry danny  _

_ Wait why is it at my place _

_ Sam (10:15): _

_ Because danny’s parents are actively hunting him and my parents are home and i do Not Want To Deal With That Shit Rn _

_ I mean if ur house is out of the question we can always meet up at the nasty burger _

_ Tucker (10:15): _

_ oh that makes sense, yea thats ok _

_ We’ll let u know whats up tonight man _

_ Danny (10:16): _

_ I HOPE so, because I’m. so confused.  _

_ oh, we’re pulling up to my house now. I’ll message you guys later ig? _

_ Tucker (10:16): _

_ Sounds good! _

_ Good luck with ur parents Danny! _

_ Sam (10:16): _

_ ^^^^^ _

_ See you tonight :) _

* * *

Danny has a lot of questions, and no answers.

This is what he finds himself thinking about as he sits in the passenger seat of Jazz’s car, watching tiny beads of rain racing down the window. The neon signs of FentonWorks cut distorted ribbons through the water’s tracks despite it being just past noon, and Danny heaves a heavy sigh as he realizes that he’s going to have to watch every tiny detail about himself to make sure his parents  _ never _ find out what he is. Or rather, what he  _ isn’t. _

Which brings him back to one of the prevailing questions: Does he tell his parents, or does he keep his spirit half a secret?

“I think… I think it’s best if you keep it a secret. For now, at least,” Jazz says, and Danny bites his lip as he realizes he voiced his previous thought aloud. 

“Y-yeah,” Danny mumbles, “I don’t know how they’ll react if they find out I’m… I’m… “

He trails off, tightening his grip on the monster growling lowly from inside his head. With a sigh, he pulls the hood of the sweater Spike had lent him over his head and unlocks the door. “Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”

“Danny.” Jazz stops him with a hand on his arm before he can step out of the car. “If you need a bit of time to think before we go in--”

“I’m gonna lose my mind if I have to put this off longer. Can we just go?” Danny interrupts as he drags a hand down his face.

After a few pensive moments of silence, Jazz nods. Danny waits as she shuts off the engine and unclips her seatbelt, not leaving until she opens her door and exits as well. Ayla hops over the seats after him. Then, he waits anxiously as Jazz locks the car, fidgeting from foot to foot until she rounds the vehicle and starts for the door. Danny matches her pace, only dropping back when Jazz opens the door, and even then, he doesn’t move far. 

“Mom? Dad? We’re home!” Jazz calls.

Scarcely a heartbeat later, at the same moment Danny closes the door behind them, he hears the unmistakable sound of machinery powering down in the lab and boots squeaking loudly on polished floors. Danny’s all too familiar with the sound of his parents running up and down the stairs, so he knows precisely the moment when he needs to brace himself… but something catches his attention.

_ What’s that smell…? _

Jack and Maddie race out from the kitchen at the same time, and Danny feels guilt creep up his throat when he takes in the dark bags under their eyes and the unkempt look of them. 

_ I made them worry, _ Danny mentally berates himself.  _ Way to go, dummy. Not only did I get my butt kicked, but I freaked out everyone around me.  _

“ _ Danny!!” _

_ “Danno!!” _

His parents shout at the same time, and the unexpected noise makes him jump, but the anxiety begins to ebb away when they crash into him, enveloping him in a hearty embrace that they drag Jazz into as well. For a time, nobody really says anything, they just silently share a hug that Danny finds himself grateful for. He lets out a contented sigh. 

Unfortunately, it has to end at some point, and it ends when Maddie breaks it up, grabbing Danny’s shoulders and staring into his face with wide, worried eyes. “Oh, hon, I’m so sorry you got so badly hurt--  _ oh.” _

_ She sees the scar. _

Maddie sucks in a sharp breath before gingerly removing Danny’s hood and brushing his messy, sleep-tousled hair away from his face so she can get a better look at his scar. It’s uncomfortable, feeling her study the healed wound with a scrutinizing eye, probably already coming up with plans to minimize it. Danny’s fingers twitch as he fights the urge to back out of Maddie’s grip and pull his hood back up to hide it. 

Jack growls under his breath, and Danny feels him staring at the scar as well. “ _ I’ll tear the spirit that did this apart molecule by molecule!” _

Danny purses his lips.  _ It’s not the spirit’s fault. It was scared, and couldn’t control itself. Like me. _

“It’s a good thing we have it with us already,” Maddie hisses, and Danny feels his blood run cold. “It’ll never hurt a single soul ever again.”

“What did you say?” Jazz says in a strained voice, saving Danny the trouble of asking the question himself.

Seemingly past his momentary anger, Jack crosses his arms and puffs out his chest with a proud grin. “The fox spirit used some sort of venom to forcibly remove the spirit from that Paulina girl, and with it so weakened, it was an easy job to catch it!”

Maddie hums. “It’s a shame about its resilience, though. It’s not going to be useful much longer in the state it’s in.”

The room suddenly feels too small, and the strange smell makes way too much sense; it’s blood, viscera, flesh, fear,  _ death, death, DEATH-- _

\--Danny gags, backing out of his mom’s reach as he chokes out a lame excuse before skirting around them and making his way up the stairs. Behind him, he vaguely registers Jack’s voice making a comment about ‘the dog’, so he’s somewhat aware that Ayla’s following him up the stairs.

When he reaches the top, he darts into his bedroom, Ayla at his heels, and slams the door shut. His stomach rebels against him, his spirit half howling and roaring as it tries to destroy him, and all he can smell is  _ blood and death.  _ The entire house  _ reeks  _ of it-- has it always smelled like this? 

**_Can’t anyone else smell it?_ **

He belatedly realizes he used telepathy when Ayla’s gentle voice responds in kind,  **_The human sense of smell is incredibly limited, and as such, they can only smell Ichor when it is spilled in very large amounts. Your mother and father can likely smell it in their laboratory, but cannot once they leave the room._ **

Danny doesn’t feel overly thrilled about using his voice right about now, so he continues speaking telepathically as he trudges across his room and faceplants onto his bed.  **_I think I’m gonna be sick._ **

**_I understand how you feel,_ ** Ayla replies, jumping up on the bed to lie beside him.  **_Although I have had many centuries to grow accustomed to the smell, I have never been able to detect it without feeling ill._ **

For a time, they lie there in companionable silence, Danny breathing slowly to calm his racing heart and roiling stomach as Ayla rests her head on his back. It’s a comforting weight, and her calm Essence seems to be having an effect on him as well because before long, Danny feels his stomach settle. After taking a few moments to make sure his stomach won’t aggressively eject its contents all over the bed, Danny rolls onto his back. He laces his fingers behind his head, staring at the ceiling as he sends Ayla a thought.  **_Uh… can I ask you a question?_ **

**_You just did._ ** Ayla replies with a mischievous thump of her tail.

Danny lets out a breathy laugh.  **_Okay, smartass, I have a few questions._ **

**_Ask away._ **

**_What exactly is an Essence, and who has one?_ **

She flicks an ear in surprise, eyes flitting over to give Danny a look that he can only describe as shocked.  **_You do not even know what Essence is?_ **

**_I haven’t really had any study time between the numerous attempts on my life, jeez._ **

**_I see._ ** She heaves a sigh and rests her head on his stomach with her eyes closed.  **_Essence is… I suppose you humans refer to it as a Soul. Although Essence is somewhat different. Essence belongs to those who have died, while a Soul is what characterizes the living. In the same way, the living have Blood and the dead have Ichor._ **

**_Ichor is… the green blood?_ **

**_Yes._ **

**_And Essence… I’m… do I have Essence or Soul?_ **

**_You are a Halfa,_ ** Ayla continues,  **_therefore you have Essence, but both Blood and Ichor run through your veins. You are dead, but also alive._ **

Danny snorts.  **_So I’m Schrodinger’s Ghost?_ **

**_What’s…?_ ** Ayla trails off,  **_Schrodinger’s Ghost?_ **

**_A joke term I just came up with based on Schrodinger’s cat. It’s the idea that if you put a cat in a box with something that could kill it, then seal the box and not look inside, the cat is both dead and alive until proven otherwise. It’s something Sam told me about during some late-night internet browsing, but I guess it kinda applies to me._ **

**_I… what? The cat cannot be both--_ ** Ayla cuts herself off again, blinking owlishly before giving Danny an understanding look.  **_Ah, I understand. Yes, I suppose it does apply to you._ **

Danny laughs quietly, amused by the fact that he managed to confuse an ancient spirit with stupid human thought experiments. She shoots him a scathing look that he just can’t take seriously, and he stifles a laugh with a fake cough at the same moment someone knocks on the door.

_ “Danny? Can I come in?” _ someone calls from the hallway.

Thankfully for Danny, it’s Jazz, who is aware of the whole ‘spirit’ thing and is only mildly startled when Danny instinctively replies to her call telepathically.  **_Yeah, it’s cool-- oh,_ ** **shit.**

“ _ Language, _ Danny,  _ Jesus,” _ Jazz mutters as she enters the room and shuts the door behind her. “And can you give me a warning before you read my mind? You almost gave me a heart attack!”

“S-sorry, I was just…” Danny drags a hand down his face. “... _ God, _ I need to pay attention to what I’m doing-- wait, you think I’m reading your mind?”

“Isn’t that what you did?”

“No, uh, I can’t read minds. I can just… talk in your head, I guess?”

**_Yes, that is indeed what telepathy entails._ **

The look Jazz shoots Ayla is enough to force another laugh from Danny, which he unsuccessfully tries to hide with a cough. Jazz turns her scowl on him then, crossing her arms. “Oh, you two think you’re  _ so _ funny.”

**_From an objective standpoint, I would say that we are quite entertaining._ **

Danny chokes on his own spit laughing, and ends up in a fit of hacking coughs that leave Jazz snapping at him in irritation. When he finally catches his breath, however, he replies, “Okay, there’s a  _ lot _ about this situation I really hate but having a smartass talking dog is  _ definitely _ a plus.”

**_Thank you. I appreciate having a smartass human boy as well._ **

Jazz shakes her head with an exasperated sigh but leaves the argument alone in favor of making her way across the room to sit beside Danny on the bed. The air slowly grows more charged, and Danny feels a serious conversation about to rear its head. 

“Mom and Dad aren’t too thrilled about the dog-- _ Ayla-- _ Ayla, though.” Jazz says. “I don’t know what we’ll do if you can’t stay together.”

**_That would be a problem,_ ** Ayla says slowly.  **_I am his Guardian spirit. I am oath-bound to remain at his side._ **

And as much as Danny wants to protest, saying he doesn’t need a Guardian spirit, he admits that he desperately needs her help and guidance. Not to mention, he’s always wanted a pet and Ayla is the closest thing he’s ever had to an actual, honest-to-god  _ dog.  _

Danny sits up and laces his fingers together in his lap. “I guess we’ll just have to try our hardest to--”

**_I think we can help with that,_ ** a familiar, ghostly voice echoes in his head, cutting him off before he can continue.

Danny glances back over his shoulder and feels a smile stretch across his face when he recognizes Sidney and Alvin phasing through the wall. Sidney adjusts his glasses with a buck-toothed grin as Alvin folds his arms across his chest with a cocky smirk.  **_Call it a little… divine intervention._ **

**_If you are planning on causing a poltergeist in the home of two notorious spirit hunters, you are incredibly foolish,_ ** Ayla says with a warning tone.

Alvin, however, is undeterred.  **_They haven’t figured out that their own kid is a goddamn spirit, and you’re basically a god. Hell, even with Danny’s Essence weakening the divide between the first and second planes, mortal humans still can’t see us._ **

Jazz gives Danny a  _ very _ confused look, which he returns with an apologetic smile before directing his attention back to the pair of ghosts. “What did you have in mind?”

**_Oh, nothin’ much,_ ** Sidney says dismissively in a not-at-all convincing tone.  **_You’ll see it when you get home from hangin’ out with your friends._ **

* * *

Ayla decides to stay behind when Daniel says he’s off to visit his friends. 

As much as she’d like to test the waters with ‘Sam’ and ‘Tucker’, just to ensure she can trust the two of them with Daniel, she also has much to learn about his family’s home now that she is separate from his Essence. Which in itself is a new and wondrous feeling; she has always been fascinated by the first plane and longed to understand just what it is that makes their ordinary world so tantalizing to so many ethereal Beasts and Beings. Although she had to give up her status as a minor God, she is not as bothered as she thought she would be. 

In fact, there is a strange, exhilarating sense of  _ smallness _ that exists which she’s never felt before-- at least, not that she can remember. Perhaps there was a time many millennia ago when she was mortal, but if so, those memories are long since lost to the sands of time. Regardless, she likes the idea that she is no longer able to play with forces beyond mortal control on a whim. Immortality and semi-omnipotence were getting quite boring after several thousand years. 

The rain hasn’t ceased all day, and continues drumming soothingly against the house even now as the sun presumably slips below the horizon. Ayla would have gone ahead and nagged at Daniel to ensure he wears a proper coat and shoes on his walk had Jasmine not already done so. And for some reason, Ayla feels somewhat conflicted about that. It is an easy feeling to push away, though-- Ayla knows Jasmine is Daniel’s kin, she shares his Blood, and there is no sense in feeling envious like a petulant child over something so important.

Jasmine had even gone to the trouble of preparing ‘omelet’ for Ayla, which she awkwardly served on a plate and left in Daniel’s room. It would be irrational to show such a kind Being hostility in return. Ayla isn’t quite sure what ‘omelet’ is, exactly, and she’s far too proud to ask Jasmine about it, but it’s something she knows she would like to try again. 

Daniel’s Essence still lingers in the house despite the fact that he said he would depart. Which is why Ayla is quietly wandering the house, avoiding Jack and Madeline as she searches for Daniel. Jasmine’s Soul contentedly hums from her room upstairs, Jack’s thrums with nonchalant satisfaction from the living room, and Madeline’s pulses with the acrid tang of nerves, uncertainty, and a desperate thirst for answers from her bedroom. Ayla feels her hackles twitch. Madeline is the biggest threat in the home, that much is easy to sense. She will need to be diligent to protect Daniel from harm, whether it should come from outside forces or those close to him. 

For now, though, Daniel is safe. In fact, Ayla can easily pinpoint the warm yet tentative echo of his Essence coming from… the laboratory, oddly enough. 

She skirts around the living room and into the kitchen, where she pauses at the top of the stairs with her stomach growing sour. The harsh, sickening stink of Ichor and suffocating terror radiates from the laboratory with such vigor it makes Ayla want to turn and leave… but Daniel is there, and he is far less used to the horrible smell than she is. So she breathes through her teeth and starts downstairs on silent paws. 

She doesn’t reveal herself when she reaches the bottom, however, instead choosing to peer around the corner at Daniel to see  _ what  _ in all the  _ planes  _ he’s doing. 

What Ayla sees makes her pause.

Daniel is covering his mouth and nose with the collar of his hoodie, skin pale and beading with sweat as he fiddles with the door to a glass chamber. Inside the chamber, the small dragon spirit lies on its side, flanks shuddering with each breath as its glassy eyes roll around to stare at Daniel in terror. For a time, Ayla ponders whether or not to reveal herself.

She doesn’t need to think for long. At last, Daniel manages to pry open the stainless steel lock on the glass door and reaches inside to gently pick up the wounded spirit. Fluorescent Ichor runs down his hands and stains his skin, leaving hissing puddles on the sterile floor as he handles the creature with such care and compassion that even Ayla feels a pang of  _ something _ in her chest. Something painful, yet bittersweet. She doesn’t have a name for the feeling, and she’s too captivated by the scene before her to think about it, so for once, she does not spend eons reflecting on this thing that confounds her. 

Her ears perk, and she catches whispers of Daniel speaking in a gentle, quavering voice to the spirit. “... _ Sorry, I know it hurts, I know… please don’t make any noise, I don’t want them to know-- what? N-no, I’m… I don’t know what I am, just-- here, just use this, and you’ll get home, I promise…” _

Ayla’s fur bristles as Daniel reaches for the Spirit Gate’s lever--  _ the boy is dying, he is just a child, it is too soon for him to pass, I will  _ **_not let Death take him--_ ** but no monster erupts from it as it did before. It merely opens up to show a swirling torrent of ethereal energy, shimmering like molten glass and oil on water, and the spirit’s wings twitch at the sight of it. 

After taking a moment to collect itself, the battered, Ichor-stained little creature rises on shaking legs and leaps from Daniel’s arms into the Gate with a ringing sound not unlike windchimes. Daniel stares after it, despite no longer being able to see it… then he dives for the wastebasket in the corner and retches into it. 

Ayla takes this as her cue to step out of her hiding place. 

She intentionally lets her nails click on the floor, alerting Daniel to her presence while eliminating the risk of frightening him. He heaves a few more times, but nothing else comes up. 

Once he’s caught his breath, he shudders and projects his voice into Ayla’s head.  **_How long have you been here?_ **

**_Long enough,_ ** she replies gently.  **_That was a very kind thing to do._ **

**_Well, nobody else was going to do it. So I had to._ **

Ayla’s lip twitches, and she wishes she could smile in the way humans could so she could properly comfort the boy.  **_Helping those who cannot help themselves is the Essence of a hero. I find that to be a fitting description of your actions._ **

Daniel’s Essence flickers with a new emotion that passes too quickly for Ayla to discern, but the look on his face tells her that he’s considering…  _ something.  _ What that is, she once again has not the faintest clue, but she’s sure she’ll find out soon enough.

“A hero, huh…?” Daniel murmurs thoughtfully. “Never thought of it like that before.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a lot of fun to write!! I really enjoy writing the Wes bits and it was nice to write Ayla's POV :D Oh! I've been meaning to mention this since like,,,chapter two,,,,but me and my two friends (Wuzzles and Nya) run a danny phantom discord server!! There's a bunch of channels for dp stuff, but then there's other channels for non-dp-related content and a whole category dedicated to discussion abt this fic and my other DP fic! It's a small server so far, but the people there are hella nice and it's a lot of fun! If you guys wanna join it, you can follow [this link!!](https://discord.gg/ADt9GYE) Hope to see you there!! :D
> 
> Aster thinks my playlists are good so I might as well link the playlists I made for this fic here!
> 
> [Instrumental/aesthetic](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3NAFadIbOmZjvOwAceW9xP?si=PXukzGmxQpWDmTb2dhhbpg)
> 
> [Inspiration](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1PzyTspWujRmzQTUhCWIEB?si=_4_bpkq0TpeyYETrChrHwQ)
> 
> Find me here!!
> 
> [Instagram](http://www.instagram.com/hitamory/)
> 
> [Twitter](http://twitter.com/hitamory)
> 
> [Tumblr](http://hitamory.tumblr.com/)  
>    
> Again, thank you to [Aster](http://fingerspellingtopassthetime.tumblr.com/) for putting up with my shit and always beta-reading my stuff!!


	12. limbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Realizations, comfort, and a dash of mischief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got a sleep-deprived EEG on Monday so I have to stay awake for over 24 hours straight. Which means I have plenty of time to work on fics and shit :D Anyways, sorry for the late update! Adult life is heckin crazy. BUT, I do bring more than just a chapter update! 
> 
> I've been working on an animation for this fic since July and I just finished it a couple days ago! If you wanna check that out, [click here!](https://youtu.be/32_gtBzANAs)
> 
> Thank you so much for your continued support of this fic!!

When Maddie returns to the lab following Danny’s departure, she’s both shocked and angry when she notices that the little dragon spirit-- the specimen she’s been studying-- is gone from the containment chamber and the acrylic door is left ajar. The green glow from the open Fenton Portal illuminates the room in shades of teal, which reflects off the droplets of bright green blood-- _Ichor--_ spattered across the tile and leaving a slowly-evaporating trail that leads from the chamber to the Portal. With an angry hiss, Maddie starts across the lab to shut the containment chamber’s gaping door, then begins hunting for a mop to clean up the Ichor. 

She finally catches sight of it resting alongside one of the spotless metal counters. After taking a moment to try quelling her frustration, she crosses the lab and reaches for the mop.

Just before her fingers brush the handle, an unnatural chill passes over her, the lights in the lab flicker just enough to be considered unnatural, and the mop falls to the side like someone-- or some _thing_ \-- grabbed it and threw it. Immediately, Maddie tenses, whirling around to search for a weapon of some sort, but a scratching sound catches her attention and, against her better judgement, she turns her head.

Before her slowly-widening eyes, she sees messy words form haphazardly on the otherwise-sterile counter, written in smudged streaks of the dragon’s Ichor despite being on the complete opposite end of the room from the mess. 

**_THE DOG SEES._ **

For a time, Maddie tries to decipher the words. Once she makes out the smudged letters, though, it doesn’t take long for her to realize what the paranormal creature is trying to communicate. With a cold smile, she reaches for an anti-ghost ward taped to the cabinet on her right and makes her decision.

“The dog scares you, does it?” Maddie chuckles. “I suppose she’ll have to stay here then, if she frightens you enough to come to _me_ for help.”

In response to her cocky declaration, the lights in the lab flash on and off wildly, like something out of a horror film. The doors on the cabinets across the lab fly open and shut aggressively enough to send a few beakers crashing to the floor, and otherworldly whispers grate on her ears, saying, “ _WRONG CHOICE, WRONG CHOICE.”_

Just as Maddie prepares to throw the ward in the direction of the eerie chill, a dog’s bark echoes around the lab. She snaps her head around to see Danny’s dog standing at the bottom of the stairs, teeth bared and hackles raised as she stares at something Maddie can’t see. A shadow flickers in her peripheral vision. The dog snarls and takes a stiff-legged step towards it.

A hissing sound just barely registers in Maddie’s ears moments before the chaos ends and the lab returns to its normal state, albeit with more shattered beakers on the floor than usual.

Once the entity (or entities) have clearly fled, it takes another minute or so for Maddie to calm her racing heart and come down from her adrenaline high. With a shuddering sigh, she places the ward back where it was before and leans her weight against the counter. 

The sound of nails clicking on tile catches her attention, and Maddie glances up to see the dog approaching her with it’s unnervingly _intelligent_ eyes and the wary posture it’s regarded her with ever since arriving at the house. Even so, the dog approaches Maddie and sits down in front of her, watching her with scrutinizing blue eyes. Then, after an indeterminate amount of time, the dog shakes herself and nudges Maddie’s hand with her nose.

It takes a few more heartbeats for Maddie to bring herself to do it, but when she does eventually muster up the motivation to pet the dog, she feels a sudden sense of calmness settle over her like a warm blanket on a winter night. It eases the stressed knot in her chest, slows her still-excited heart, and makes her anxiety melt like frosted glass under warm fingertips. 

She smiles and scratches the dog behind her gray-and-white ears. “You know, it’s always seemed quite illogical to me for people to have pets,” she begins, “but after seeing that whole mess, well, I’d say you’ve earned your place in my home. I trust you’ll protect my son.”

If Maddie were more inclined to believe the fantasies of her mind’s eye, she might’ve caught the glimmer of ancient emotion that passes across the dog’s brilliant blue eyes.

* * *

It takes some time for Ayla to soothe Madeline Fenton’s anxiety and thrumming heartbeat, but when the shaken scientist finally relaxes and leaves the laboratory, Ayla makes a beeline for Daniel’s room, where she casts a scathing glare at the two ghosts who orchestrated the whole poltergeist. Their forms shimmer like reflections on rippling water as their laughter chimes through the room like the ringing of bells. 

 **_That. Was._ ** **Awesome.** Alvin cackles as Sidney hugs his stomach.

If the dead could breathe, Ayla’s certain that Sidney would be turning red in the face by now. Despite the ghosts’ merry chatter, however, Ayla wrinkles her snout and noses her way through the doorway. 

 **_You are both foolish,_ ** she scolds. **_Madeline was prepared to hurl a Sight-ward at you, which would have rendered you tangible on the first plane. She would have exterminated you, had I not intervened._ **

Sidney and Alvin exchange an impish grin before turning their opalescent eyes on Ayla. She does not break her focus on them as Alvin shrugs and replies, **_I didn’t think she’d actually, you know,_ ** **know** **_about Wards. Thought all the shit in the basement was dumb paranormal investigator crap. But hey, it warmed her up to the idea of letting you live here, and nobody actually got their ass kicked, so what’s there to be upset about?_ **

While the logic is sound, Ayla still feels her anger bubbling below the surface, tainting her Essence with negative energy. She’s unsure why. Sidney and Alvin are merely ghosts, she should not harbor attachment to them, let alone anger over their blatant disregard for their own safety. 

Perhaps it is her divine nature that gives her this unusual surge of protectiveness. She heaves a sigh. That could very much be the case.

 **_I suppose you are right,_ ** she says slowly, letting her anger seep away. **_Although I will not tolerate any further disregard for your safety, for both for your sakes, and Daniel’s._ **

Both ghosts fixate her with surprised looks, which, Ayla supposes, is reasonable considering her request. Before she can quell their curiosity, however, Sidney says, **_Aw gee, you really care about us that much?_ **

**_Didn’t think you cared for anyone but the kid… it’s kinda touching, in a way,_ **Alvin quips, scratching at the stubble on his chin.

With a snort, Ayla lets the door click shut behind her and pads across the room to hop up on Daniel’s bed. **_It is merely advantageous to Daniel’s health to prevent any harm to befall you. Nothing more._ **

In a burst of daring Ayla has never seen before, Alvin barks out a ringing laugh and drops an ice-cold hand on her head, ruffling the short fur between Ayla’s ears. **_Oh, c’mon, you know we’ve grown on you--_ **

**_You have three seconds to remove your hand before I bite it off at the elbow._ **

In spite of her threat and the low growl rumbling in her throat, Alvin doesn’t cease his childish behavior. Well, it isn’t as though she could truly do any harm to the ghost; ghosts are beings made of wispy Essence and Soul, able to be interacted with but not injured for long. Even if she did snap at him and tear Alvin’s arm from his body, he wouldn’t feel much pain and the arm would reform in less than a minute. Alvin must be aware of this fact as well, seeing as he isn’t taking the threat very seriously.

When he finally does withdraw his hand, Ayla hardly has a moment’s peace before his ethereal white face pops down in front of hers, hair floating lazily around his gaunt face. Sidney stares into her face as well, and while she’d like to ignore the spirits, she understands that she’ll have no respite from their pestering until she figures out what they want. With a heavy sigh, she asks, **_What is it now that you require from me?_ **

**_Can you turn on the computer so we can watch the rest of Star Wars? Alvin an’ me can’t turn the dang thing on when Danny’s not around--_ **

**_Very well. Instruct me on how to accomplish this so I may do it quickly and turn in for the night._ **

What follows is a chaotic mess of ghostly chatter as they try to instruct her at the same time, but Ayla supposes it’s better than wandering the planes of existence, exercising her omnipotence but only from afar. Yes, this is indeed a welcome change of pace.

In fact, she’s not sure there’s any place she’d rather be than here on the first plane, in a vulnerable, mortal form. 

* * *

Being lost in thought is nothing new to Danny-- he gets lost in his head often, and while he usually catches himself to prevent stumbling into, er, _messy_ situations, this time he lets his mind have free reign. Somewhere in the back of his head, he realizes this is probably partly due to the fact that he no longer feels nearly as threatened by human threats, but he barely gives that any thought. 

He’s more focused on the ideas that Ayla’s words sparked in his mind. 

_Helping those who cannot help themselves is the Essence of a hero. I find that to be a fitting description of your actions._

Danny’s never really been super invested in comic books-- that was always Tucker’s thing-- but he does like a few superhero stories, and now that he’s slowly adjusting to his strange new status as a half-spirit, he’s starting to see the appeal in being a hero of sorts. As far as he knows, he’s the only half-spirit that exists (save for the mystery helper at Casper High), and therefore, he’s the only one who can deal with the invisible creatures that wander Amity Park. 

Even as he walks down the rain-drenched sidewalk with his hood drawn up, he sees a small, minor spirit dart across the road ahead of him. It pauses when it reaches the sidewalk, fixating Danny with its countless white eyes before baring its needle-sharp teeth and letting out a hiss. The sight of it hardly fazes Danny, and he just continues walking forward. When Danny draws too close, the spirit shimmers and disappears into the twisting shadows between two rusted trash cans, and the brief bell-like ringing lets Danny know that the spirit jumped through one of the small, temporary gateways into the Spirit Realm. As he passes the garbage cans, he peers into the shadows between them despite knowing he probably won’t be able to see the gateway or the spirit. 

He doesn’t stop to linger, not wanting to start shit with whatever spirit comes along next. Instead, he takes a deep breath of the chilly air and continues on the familiar route to Tucker’s house.

As he walks, he finds himself looking around at whatever little spirits pitter-patter around in the dark streets and actually… _appreciating_ their presence. 

It’s an odd feeling, and he still doesn’t like the lingering, malevolent entity that paces deep within him, but now that he simply observes the minor spirits wandering the town like stray cats, he finds an odd sense of comfort in knowing he’s not entirely alone. A bioluminescent spirit on seven spindly legs grazes on the yard of a rental home, a crow chatters in annoyance as a pair of glittering green eyes dance around the trashcan it’s perched upon, a silver ring with white wings and over a dozen eyes flutters near to investigate Danny before darting away… it’s all quite peaceful in a strange, alien way.

When it finally occurs to him to check his surroundings, he realizes he’s walked a little bit _past_ Tucker’s house and groans inwardly before jogging back to hop up the front steps. Being so familiar with the house, he doesn’t bother knocking and lets himself in with a shout of “ _Hello!!”_ before shucking off his rain-drenched jacket and hanging it up on the rack behind the door. 

Mrs. Foley appears from around the corner with a smile.

“Hello, Danny! Tucker and Sam are just up-- oh dear.” 

For a few moments, Danny’s confused by her sudden change in tone… then he remembers the scar. He’s hit with a jolt of self-consciousness and has to force himself not to bring his hand up to cover it, but manages to smile and laughs awkwardly. “Oh, y-yeah, that’s from the accident I was in. You’ll get used to it. Sorry if it freaked you out.”

Mrs. Foley’s eyes widen in sudden horror, “Oh, no, no! I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, dear, it just surprised me. It’s no problem.”

The longer this goes on and the harder she tries to backtrack, the more awkward and uncomfortable Danny feels. And while he appreciates her attempts to ease his nerves, he’d rather leave the room as quickly as possible to avoid this conversation. 

Thankfully, Mrs. Foley seems to notice his discomfort and lets out a titter. “Well, I’ve kept you long enough. You should head upstairs, Tucker’s been absolutely ecstatic, knowing you’re coming over!”

Danny manages to give her a quick ‘thank you’ before kicking off his soggy shoes and heading for the carpeted stairs. As he does, he decides he should make his presence known to any spirits potentially lingering in the house, and takes a moment to think of a greeting before projecting his thoughts to any spirits in the vicinity.

**_Uh, Hi, my name’s Danny. I’m Tucker’s friend, and I’m half-spirit but I’m not here to cause trouble._ **

He feels the shudder of a few small Essences in the house in response to his announcement, but doesn’t pick up on any ill-intent or anger, so he lets himself breathe again as he reaches the top of the stairs. 

His nerves now settled, he feels a smile creep onto his face as a brilliant idea comes to him. He pauses in front of Tucker’s door, taking a moment to prevent himself from laughing, before he projects his voice into Sam’s and Tucker’s heads, **_THIS IS YOUR CONSCIENCE SPEAKING, AND IT SAYS THERE’S AN AXE MURDERER AT THE DOOR._ **

As soon as he cuts off the telepathic connection, he kicks the door open with a shout and feels a thrill of mischievous glee when Sam jumps and Tucker screams. Danny takes in their startled expressions, and isn’t even sorry when he’s overtaken by laughter. “Oh my _God,_ your _faces--”_

_“I’m gonna kill you--”_

_“YOU BASTARD--”_

Sam and Tucker reply in unison, but Danny can’t stop his laughter, not even when Sam grabs a pillow from Tucker’s bed and hurls it at him hard enough to knock Danny flat on his back. When he finally catches his breath, he pushes himself up into a sitting position and grins at his two friends, who also seem to be on the verge of laughing. “Okay, okay, maybe that was a _bit_ of a dick move, but the opportunity was there.”

“Just because you _can_ do something, doesn’t mean you _should,_ you fucking gremlin.” Sam sighs with a smirk.

“You know me-- Danny Fenton: Actual Gremlin, Bad Decisions Extraordinaire.”

Tucker groans, rubbing at his eyes. “I think I saw my life flash before my eyes.”

“Awesome.”

By now, the high energy of the room seems to have died down into something more mellow and calm, and Sam is the first to direct their energy into something more important, as usual. 

“So how bad’s the scar?” she asks bluntly, getting straight to the point.

Tucker whips his head around to give her a horrified look, but Danny feels more comfortable discussing it with his friends rather than his family and his friends’ families, so he’s not particularly bothered. With a sigh, he lets himself reach up to rub at the scar again. “It’s pretty big, and I can’t really feel anything when it’s touched. It feels really… it’s weird.”

“Damn,” Tucker sighs, reaching up to adjust his hat. “Sorry we couldn’t help, dude. We did try, though.”

Danny shrugs. “It’s not your fault. I was the one who went off the deep end and… you know, I don’t actually know what happened.”

Sam and Tucker exchange a surprised glance before focusing back on Danny. 

“You don’t remember…?” Sam asks carefully, as though she’s walking on eggshells by doing so.

Seeing as Sam is the most blunt person in their little trio, Danny’s more than a bit unnerved by her uncharacteristic care with her words. He glances between his friends, then murmurs, “I know from what you said over the chat that I turned into some kind of… black dog? But everything else is really hazy. I just remember… “ his spirit half stirs and growls deep within his head, and he swallows as he reins it in, forcing it back into slumber. “...I lost myself. It was… _really, really scary._ ”

“We won’t make you talk about stuff if it freaks you out, man,” Tucker reassures. “We just wanna fill you in on what all happened.”

“Okay. Okay. Thanks, guys, that… that really means a lot to me.”

Once they’re convinced that Danny’s ready to hear the story in its entirety, they relay every detail they’re aware of, which is both interesting and unnerving for Danny to hear. Everything from facing the horrifying fusion of Paulina and the dragon spirit, to shifting into full spirit form, and being found wounded in the mall’s bathroom. Though Sam and Tucker seem to be leaving something out, avoiding something that’s probably not the greatest truth to reveal. 

Danny’s pretty sure he knows what that ‘something’ is.

When Sam and Tucker finally finish filling him in, he feels as though a massive weight has been lifted from his chest, filling in the holes in his memory and making it easier to breathe. With a deep, relieved breath, he reaches up to nonchalantly rub at the scar again and says, “So I guess it was my parents that tried to waste me, huh?”

Sam and Tucker look like they want to deny it, but after a moment of indecision, Sam heaves a sigh and leans back against Tucker’s bed with her arms crossed. “Unfortunately, yeah. They saw something they didn’t understand and shot first, asked questions never. And because of that, they royally messed you up.”

“That’s my parents for you,” Danny says with a shrug. “I didn’t really expect anything different, to be honest. I mean, it sucks that my _parents_ did this to me, but they didn’t know it was me.”

Tucker purses his lips at that, and Sam glances off towards the rain-spattered window, which lets Danny know that they’re not pacified by his words at all, but he doesn’t know what else he _can_ say to them. So he leaves it at that and instead focuses on an issue that’s been lingering like a nasty flu.

As he shifts so he sits cross-legged, hands on his ankles, Danny drops the bomb. 

“So I’ve been doing some deep thinking, and I think it’s about time I started using my powers for something worthwhile. I’m going full vigilante, but like, less Batman, more Spider-Man.”

Sam and Tucker snap their attention to him immediately, momentarily looking at him like he’s grown a second head. Danny’s about to defend his decision, but before he can even open his mouth, his friends break into near-manic grins.

“Freakin’ _finally!!”_ Tucker exclaims, throwing his hands in the air.

Sam rolls her eyes. “Thought you’d never come around to the idea.”

“Wait, have you guys been _planning_ on me becoming… I don’t know, some kinda superhero?”

“Well _obviously,_ you have honest-to-god _superpowers_ , you _cabbage.”_ Sam snorts as Tucker cackles.

With an incredulous glance between them, Danny chokes out, “Are you _kidding_ me?”

“ _NOPE,”_ Sam and Tucker reply at the same time, which makes Danny groan in exasperation.

“Is this gonna be like that part in _Into the Spider-Verse_ where Aunt May makes all that gear before Miles even--”

“Funny you should mention that…” Sam interrupts, reaching over for her backpack.

“ _Are you fucking kidding me.”_

* * *

_In the depths of the Third Plane, there is a fantastical dwelling, crafted of ever-shifting trees emitting a pale green glow from the cracks in their bark, pulsing like the blood vessels of some great beast. The trees resonate with a low hum that thrums in the chest, shakes the blood, and despite that, envelops any in earshot with an overwhelming sense of calm and safety. The sky above shimmers like the surface of water on a tropical island, dancing with shades of blue, green, and brilliant white shards of sunlight from three different Suns, and the surrounding forest is simply alive with Lesser spirits of all shapes and sizes as they bask in the fragmented sunlight and forage for food._

_And what blankets the entire land, but the sound of a ticking clock._

_Within the great mansion, one of the Old Ones stands in front of a mirror, watching it with ancient, all-knowing eyes like polished carnelian as an elegant teacup is clasped between Their spindly, black-gloved fingers. They are Horolopus, Father Time, the Elder God, and They oversee every single timeline, every one of its intriguing twists and turns stemming from even the tiniest shift in tone, and interfere when necessary._

_They witnessed the death of the human boy, and ensured that the goddess Ayla was in the right place at the right time to keep the current timeline running smoothly, as it should. While They likely could have prevented the Sky Dragon from fusing with the human girl, that would have altered key events, leading to dangerous consequences. They sip Their tea, marveling at the quality and momentarily taking Their eyes off of the mirror to rejuvenate Their mind._

_In the time it takes for Them to sit down in one of the warmly glowing chairs in the great room They spend most of Their time in and finish Their tea, just over twenty-four hours have passed on the First Plane. Blast it all!_

_They rise slowly to Their feet and glance up at Their looking-glass at the same moment that Daniel Fenton, the Halfa, makes his next move. One that Horolopus, while aware of, was not expecting the boy to choose. The Elder God chuckles, a low, echoing rumble that resonates through the mansion not unlike the trees’ humming._

**_“I see that this timeline is certainly an interesting one.”_ **

* * *

When Walker began his investigation, he was given one of Casper High’s spare offices to carry out his investigation from, a place away from the students’ prying eyes and the teachers’ general curiosity. This office certainly isn’t the newest or most impressive of the school’s rooms, but it does what it’s supposed to, so Walker isn’t particularly upset. At the moment, he’s picking absentmindedly at the cracked skin of his lips and pacing the small room, wishing he’d brought a coffee along. This is the second consecutive night he’s gone without sleep, and while this is one of the things he’s become accustomed to while working for the GIW, this investigation, at least over the past 48 hours, has been maddeningly quiet. Other than the small spirits that periodically drift through the halls, he’s experienced no paranormal activity at all. Hell, he’s almost convinced that the black dog spirit simply fled the first plane or died of its injuries following the skirmish at the mall... 

...if he didn’t know any better, that is. 

Walker knows firsthand just how resilient spirits are to injury, and while the blast from Maddie Fenton’s weapon would certainly leave permanent scarring, it isn’t nearly powerful enough to kill a beast of that caliber. He growls under his breath, making another round of the room.

It’s at this particular moment that the air pressure shifts, minutely enough that a human wouldn’t be able to detect it, but a being with enhanced perception, such as Walker, feels it like an earthquake below his feet. He pauses. 

For a time, nothing happens. After about five minutes of silence, however, a sudden notification pings from his computer in the center of the dimly-lit room, which is out of the ordinary. The GIW never send information to his personal computer, instead alerting him via his pager so he can find a secure location in which he can safely view it, and the school staff are most certainly asleep by this point. 

So he warily approaches the computer, eyes narrowed as he detects the faintest wisps of paranormal energy from somewhere in the vicinity.

As soon as he takes in the notification banner, he clicks his tongue in irritation. 

**_YOU’VE WON OUR RANDOM DRAW!! CLICK THE LINK TO CLAIM YOUR PRIZE!!_ **

He’s more than a little baffled by the gaudy, flashing popup that sits in the centre of his screen. Where could he have possibly picked up a silly virus like this? As he sifts through his memories, he sits down in his seat and clicks the small ‘x’ in the corner. 

The banner closes just as it should, but to Walker’s annoyance, it somehow opens a command prompt window that sits idly for a few heartbeats. Then, shockingly, it begins typing on its own.

**_HELLO WALKER._ **

For a time, the investigator merely glares suspiciously at the screen. When nothing happens, however, he decides to take the bait. He types out a response.

**_What are you?_ **

He hits the enter key to move to the next line, and more green text appears in the command window.

**_I THINK YOU KNOW WHO I AM. WHO WE ARE._ **

**_You’re the black dog._ **

**_INDEED. I AM PHANTOM, ONE OF AMITY PARK’S GUARDIAN SPIRITS. YOU ARE UNWELCOME HERE._ **

Walker narrows his eyes with a scowl. 

**_You do not belong on the first plane. You are the unwelcome one._ **

**_I SUPPOSE YOU WILL NOT BE PERSUADED. VERY WELL. YOU HAVE INCURRED THE WRATH OF AMITY’S GUARDIANS._ **

At the same time, Walker’s laptop fans begin whirring at a high speed, sending heat hissing through the quiet room as countless popup windows begin appearing on the screen. Eyes flying wide open, Walker immediately lunges for the power button as dozens of different malware springs forth from the popups and begin ravaging his computer. When the screen finally goes black, he reaches for the anti-spirit pistol holstered at his waist and braces himself. 

He finds himself blinded when a sudden power surge makes every single light in the school burst with power, much brighter than they should be under normal circumstances. The fire alarms and sprinklers go off then, making Walker let go of his pistol to cover his ears and shield his face from the cold, stagnant spray. Sparks fly as electronic appliances are doused in water. As the lights die back down with an eerie crackle, Walker feels his heart stop.

Standing in the window is a spirit.

At least, he initially assumes it’s one. For the few moments it lingers, Walker is acutely aware of the fact that it gives off no Essence, no paranormal energy, _nothing._ He feels cold sweat bead on his forehead and roll down his back, frozen in place as he puzzles over what in the _hell_ the thing is.

It appears to be a man dressed completely in black, face shrouded in shadows. In fact, Walker’s sure he wouldn’t have been able to make out its outline had it not been for the streetlights illuminating it from behind. 

What unnerves him is how it makes no move to flee or attack. 

Walker knows spirits intimately, he knows their inner workings, their goals, their weaknesses… and this spirit defies them all. It merely stands there, completely still, watching him with terrifying red eyes that glow from beneath the rim of a jet-black top hat.

The lights flash with obscenely bright light once more, and the spirit is gone. No red eyes scrutinize him from the window, no silhouette moves in the open expanse of grassy field, nothing. Not even a fragment of spiritual energy came from it.

For the first time in decades, Walker feels his heart pound in terror, adrenaline coursing through his veins like liquid lightning as his bony fingers quake. All he hears is the blood roaring in his ears and the hissing of the sprinklers, and when the small surveillance screen in the corner of the room crackles back to life, Walker whirls around and almost shoots it on impulse. 

The screen, a live feed from one of the school’s security cameras, shows a static-wreathed figure standing next to the shed, holding a can of glow-in-the-dark spray paint which they hold up to its weathered wooden wall. Before Walker’s shocked eyes, the strange figure writes a message that covers the previous one left by the second odd individual.

When the figure finishes, the wall glows with a message in the language of the dead:

_‘Play my game, and I’ll play yours. Good luck, investigator.’_

Somewhere in the school, Walker hears something heavy crash to the floor, perhaps a filing cabinet or bookshelf. Regardless, it sets his nerves alight with a deep, primal fear he hasn’t felt since… since… 

His hatred for the paranormal erupts to the surface and he feels his face distort in animalistic rage at the same moment the figure on-screen slowly turns their head to look at the camera. 

Piercing, solid-green eyes glow from the darkness, just below the faintest glimpses of ghostly white hair. In his head, a distorted voice echoes. 

**_I see you._ **

A chill races up and down Walker’s spine as the screen dissolves into static, and he whips around just in time to feel a spike of paranormal energy and see the door to the office bang open hard enough to crack the glass of its window. A presence fills his head, making it feel like dozens of cockroaches are crawling over his skin, into his ears, eyes, nose, mouth, and the pale scars that mar his skin from years of exterminating spirits. By _God,_ it feels like the walls are dripping, melting, bubbling, roiling with a thousand human eyes that stare, stare, _stare,_ looking into his soul and slicing him open like a cadaver to reveal every single thing within that makes him tick. It feels like death, like some old god is standing in the room with him, _choking out the air…_

...and as quickly as it comes, the pervasive feeling vanishes.

The sprinklers still drip with chilly water, drenching Walker to the bone, but the suffocating feeling is gone, replaced by a soul-crushing exhaustion that threatens to knock Walker to his knees. Once he’s certain the spirits are gone, he lets out a shuddering breath and feels himself regain some semblance of composure. Unfortunately, that composure is somewhat tarnished by the humiliation he feels at being brought to his mental knees by some… some… _monster!_ He brings a fist down on the desk hard enough to send several pencils rolling onto the wet carpet.

_Mark my words, spirit, I’ll kill you with my own two hands._

* * *

“When you grabbed your backpack, I was thinking ‘Oh wow, Sam literally made me a superhero outfit’, not ‘Sam wants to cause at least one unexplained death that’ll certainly be featured on a future episode of Buzzfeed Unsolved,” Danny comments as he, Sam, Tucker, and his two ghostly friends sit on the frosty grass of Tucker’s front yard. 

With a snort, Sam reaches for the black top hat resting atop her head and turns to stare at him from behind her black morphsuit. “Okay, but consider this: if we scare Walker out of town, then he’s not our problem anymore.”

Danny squints in the harsh red light from the dollar-store finger-lights Sam had krazy-glued to the face of the morphsuit as she pulls it away from her face. “Y-yeah, I guess so. But I don’t want to _kill_ him.”

“I’m not _trying_ to commit a murder here, Danny,” Sam shoots back, “I’m trying to _help._ Because believe it or not, me and Tucker would be greatly bummed out if you were brutally killed by some creepy old man with a god complex. And since terrifying pranks are my forte, I figured I’d use my gift for the greater good. But whatever.”

Danny hears Alvin bark out an amused laugh that rings in his head, but he doesn’t react to it. Instead, he heaves a sigh that sends a puff of vapor through the chilly air and lets his eyes follow the silhouette of a small spirit that wanders through the street. “You’re right. Sorry, guys… I really do appreciate the help.”

“I know, jeez, you’re apologizing too much lately.” Sam snorts with a roll of her eyes. 

As Danny still watches the shimmering silhouette of the spirit, vaguely aware of how Sam and Tucker watch him curiously, the mild tension fades. After a short reprieve, Tucker lets out a sharp exclamation, “Aw _man_ , I should’ve brought my video camera along! Catching that prank on video would’ve made us internet celebrities _overnight!!_ ”

Sam laughs in spite of herself. “That would’ve defeated the purpose of Operation: Scare The Piss Out Of Walker. He would’ve discovered it was us, and we’d all be in trouble.”

“I know, I know… but _imagine!_ If the high stakes were gone, that would’ve launched us up the rankings! _”_

“What rankings are you _talking_ about? There’s no ‘internet ranking system’--”

“ _I don’t mean literal rankings!”_

Danny chuckles quietly at the banter between his two friends, leaning back to rest his weight on his hands. The frost coating the grass melts as his hands brush against it, leaving cool water tracks on his skin as he tilts his head back to look at the sky. In spite of the city’s light pollution, a fair amount of stars are still visible, and in front of those, the ethereal afterimages of whatever flying spirits dance through the sky. Once again, Danny feels an odd sense of security. Maybe he’s just gone crazy.

Or perhaps he finally understands what it feels like to be part of something bigger. 

He has a purpose, a duty, and where his mind was once occupied with uncertainty regarding his future, he now feels like that ominous gap is slowly filling up. Of course, there’s still a large cloud of fear in his brain when he considers facing Walker and whatever else might rear its ugly head, but he’s not alone. 

He’s never been alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come on, they're a bunch of teenagers with a handful of paranormal entities at their disposal. You can't tell me _you_ wouldn't pull a few godtier pranks in that situation :>
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	13. ascension

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HECK IM SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG TO UPDATE!!! I've been so busy irl ahjgdksv we had two girls quit out of nowhere at my work so i work 6 days a week to pick up the slack and while i love my job, i barely have any time to write/draw *wheeze*
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> Also I have a snek now! His name is Dib and i spend most of my free time playing with him and my gecko so I'm sorry if that delays my updoots :'D
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> I hope you guys like the chapter though!!
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>   
>  *****CW: BLOOD, VIOLENCE, BRIEF HANDGUN USE*****

It’s been four days since the encounter with the paranormal creature haunting Casper High, which Walker only refers to as ‘The Incident’, and the white-cloaked investigator has not slept a wink. No matter how much he attempted on those first two nights following the encounter, no matter how many melatonin pills he took, no matter whether or not he had soothing white noise filling his hotel room, he could never keep his eyes closed long before nightmarish memories he’d buried deep would resurface like a lingering illness. Images of a massive, luxurious mansion spread out endlessly ahead of him, illuminated by faint moonlight would burst vividly to life in his head, followed by the maddening spiral staircase behind a bookshelf, and the soulless, empty eye sockets of the spirit that had attempted to take his life. 

He’d been a young man then, hardly pushing 30, and had an incredibly bright future laid out before him as a private investigator. Oh, how he wished he could go back and decline the job he’d been far too eager to take. Shake some sense into his past self, tell him to go right back home to his beautiful fiance and put his feet up in front of the crackling fireplace without a care in the world. 

He scoffs, pulling himself out of his own reverie, and rises from where he sits stiffly in front of his softly-whirring laptop. He winces as his aging joints creak, but pushes through it and crosses the musty hotel room with whisper-quiet steps to slide open the balcony door. 

The sun is just about to breach the horizon, painting the sky in soft hues of pink and blue, and Walker inhales deeply, drinking in the bitterly cold fall breeze. He reaches into his pocket and withdraws a cigarette, lighting it solemnly before placing it between his lips and resting his weight on the rusted balcony railing. 

For a time, he merely tries to occupy his frenzied, paranoid mind with the sounds of early-morning birdsong and the feeling of chilly air entering and exiting his lungs. Of course, as usual, it never works and he feels his heart rate fluctuate at the ghastly memory of that bare, grinning, red-and-white animal skull. 

What he doesn’t expect is his phone to chirp from its place in his back pocket, but he takes his sweet time before answering, not wanting to discard the cigarette before he’d finished with it. Once he’s satisfied, he snuffs out the cigarette and tosses it in the grimy ashtray on the balcony. 

He doesn’t bother checking the caller ID-- it doesn’t matter to him who calls-- but when he gives his aloof, automatic greeting, he’s pleasantly surprised to hear the voice of one of his superiors, Agent X. 

_ “Good morning, Walker. How is your investigation going thus far?” _ the man asks in his usual cold manner.

With a grunt, Walker replies brusquely, “Little bastard keeps slipping through my fingers. I will catch him and bring him to justice in the near future, but he’s clever.”

There’s a noncommittal hum.  _ “Perhaps your age is catching up with you. If the mission is too much for you, I can always--” _

“I,” Walker snarls viciously, feeling the phone strain under his tightened grip, “am  _ NOT,”  _ he draws himself up to his full height as though he can intimidate the younger agent through the phone, “ _ GOING TO BE BESTED BY A DAMNED DEMON!!” _

_ “Ah, I see, I see,”  _ Agent X comments, “ _ stubborn as always, eh, Walker? No matter. I don’t need to know what means you use to catch the little thing, I just need results. And I had best start seeing them within the week, do I make myself clear?” _

Walker storms back into his hotel room and slams the sliding door shut behind him. “I’ve been hunting these beasts since before you could walk,  _ brat, _ ” he sneers, “Don’t speak to me as though I’m below you.”

To Walker’s utter outrage, Agent X doesn’t sound at all bothered by his retort.  _ “Yes, yes, I’m sure of that. In any case, I have a supposed ‘alien’ cadaver to study. Contact me when you make some prog--.” _

The old investigator hangs up before Agent X finishes speaking. 

How dare he?

How  _ DARE _ he?!

Walker resists the overwhelming urge to yell profanity, or punch the wall, or throw his phone, as those are childish fixes to his pent-up emotions. Instead, he paces. 

And paces.

And paces.

And finally, a plan begins to form rudimentary frameworks in his mind. 

His mind drifts back to the way his personal computer had exploded with foreign malware four days earlier, and to the fact that there seemed to be more than one spirit inhabiting Casper High’s campus.

He’s not sure just  _ how _ many spirits drift through the empty halls after he’s left school grounds, but one thing he’s certain of, is that two of them are tangible on the First Plane, and don’t know each other’s identities. At least, judging by the way they seemed to trade messages through… unorthodox means. 

Gradually, Walker’s dry, chapped lips curve upwards in a malicious sneer. 

Yes, he’s got a plan to flush the both of these masked monsters out without making his own presence known until it’s too late for them. 

Youthful anticipation courses through his veins like liquid lightning. 

This is the day he succeeds. He’s certain of it.

* * *

“This is the  _ third time _ you’ve been late to my class in the past week, Mister Fenton, and I’m beginning to think that you’re using your old injury as an excuse to cut class. Is that an accurate description?” Mr. Lancer drawls, drumming his fingers on the surface of his desk as his eyes bore into Danny’s own.

“N-no, no, that’s not it at all!” Danny protests. “I swear, I’m really trying to make it on time!!”

Lancer doesn’t look convinced, his frown growing deeper and his brows lowering. “Then I’d appreciate an explanation. Neither of us want me to call your parents, I’m sure.”

Danny swallows. Class had just let out, and the hallway is packed with students gossiping, roughhousing, and excitedly making their way to their favorite lunchtime hangouts. The only one who’s  _ not _ out there, as far as Danny knows, is Danny himself. He shifts his weight awkwardly from foot to foot, rolling his lower lip in his teeth for a time before slowly looking up to meet Lancer’s eyes.

“I… I don’t know. I feel really anxious and stressed, but I’m not sure why. I feel paranoid and I think my… my pain meds are making me hallucinate.” the lie slips from Danny’s lips as smoothly as honey, and he can’t help but feel slightly disgusted with himself that lying is slowly becoming second nature.

Thankfully, Lancer’s hard stare softens around the edges and he laces his fingers together on his desk. “I see. Please take that up with your doctor, and let them know that the medication is causing you these side effects. Hallucinations tend to be a severe side effect.”

Danny nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll go see my doctor right after school.”

“Good. Now, if this lateness is going to continue to be a problem, I’ll need a doctor’s note to excuse it,” the teacher continues. “Contrary to what you students think, I am truly trying my best to help all of you succeed. You are dismissed.”

A weight leaves Danny’s chest and he lets out a relieved sigh before giving Lancer a nervous smile. “Th-thanks. I’ll make more of an effort from now on.”

As he turns and races for the door, he catches a glimpse of his teacher’s mouth quirking in an amused smile. The last bit of lingering stress leaves him in a rush. 

The excitement doesn’t last long, however, and as Danny skids into the hallway, he crashes into another student, who smacks against the lockers with a grunt of surprise and annoyance. Danny catches himself before he also finds himself colliding with the lockers, shoes squeaking on the linoleum, and opens his mouth to apologize. 

“Oh,  _ shit, _ sorry! I didn’t mean--” His voice cuts off and he feels he blood turn to ice when he sees that the other student is none other than Dash Baxter.

The hulking athlete glares at Danny with fiery blue eyes, glancing from the shoulder of his trademark letterman jacket to Danny, who takes a few shocked steps back in alarm. Though, as Danny notices yet again, his body acts more on instinct than out of actual fear; he doesn’t feel the all-consuming terror he used to in the face of his most relentless bully. At the realization, Danny blinks owlishly at nothing in particular. 

Dash stomps across the hall to tower over Danny with his teeth bared in a threatening grimace. “ _ Fenton.” _

“Baxter.” Danny finds himself replying coolly as his expression falls into something more neutral.

Deep in his chest, Danny feels the spirit begin to stir. He can feel its growls rumbling in his head and feel its malicious green eyes gaze through his own at the quarterback looming over him. And in spite of that, Danny doesn’t feel the spirit trying to hijack his body. In fact, he and the spirit seem to be on the same page, looking up at Dash with cold indifference. 

“It’s been a couple weeks since you got outta the hospital,” Dash sneers, “which means I can whale on you again.”

“Ishiyama’s cracking down on harassment, Dash. She’ll see you on the security cameras and you’ll be suspended,” Danny replies, feeling the corner of his mouth twist upward in a smirk. “And even if Ishiyama doesn’t see the footage, the creepy government guy sure as hell will.”

Dash’s knuckles pop as his hands clench into fists, his skin bleaching white. Despite the threat, he winds up and throws a violent punch. With a spark of panic, Danny feels the spirit snatch hold of his body momentarily, but blinks in surprise when it merely forces him to sidestep swiftly out of the path of Dash’s fist. His punch smashes into the metal locker door behind Danny with a deafening crash that leaves Danny’s ear ringing. 

Immediately, the star athlete hisses a curse through clenched teeth and stumbles backwards a few steps. He clutches at his hand, staring in shock at the blood that sluggishly starts oozing from his split knuckles. The shock quickly morphs into rage and he glares daggers at Danny. 

“Way to go, _ dumbass.  _ I’ll just say you started a fight, and you’ll get suspended for--”

Danny whistles to get Dash’s attention before pointing lazily at the camera firmly secured in the ceiling a few feet down the hall. “Go ahead. We’ll see who they believe.”

To Danny’s surprise, he feels the spirit huff in a wolfish approximation of laughter, and the thought that perhaps he and the spirit are on the same page for once brings a cocky grin to his own face. He even slightly humors the idea of letting the spirit take over and go absolutely feral on the bully. Give Dash a taste of his own medicine.

But Danny shakes his head at his own inner thoughts and starts walking off down the hall towards the cafeteria. Thankfully, Dash doesn’t give chase. Danny’s not sure he’d be able to resist fighting back if the guy tried something again. 

No sooner has he rounded the next corner than the PA system beeps as it does before an announcement is made. This isn’t anything unusual, Danny hears and ignores at least 20 PA messages every day, but what makes him stop dead with wide eyes is the fact that the voice that comes through isn’t that of Principal Ishiyama, Walker, or any other staff member. 

No, the voice that comes through is distorted, crackly, and has the vague tone of a teenage boy. What makes it even more startling is the fact that the voice speaks not in English, but in the language of the dead.

**_“Hey, idiot. Yeah, you know who you are,”_ ** the voice hisses,  **_“I’m sick of this ring-around-the-rosie crap. Meet me in room 305, the storage room next to the janitor’s closet. I want to talk about the crap you’ve been pulling, and how to get rid of this government loser.”_ **

The PA beeps again, and Danny finds himself stiff as a board, feet rooted in place. He swallows hard, unsure of whether or not to follow the instructions issued over the PA. He’s not sure if he  _ does  _ want to meet up with the kid who’s been leaving strange messages for him; the guy seems to hate Danny’s guts despite never meeting in person. What if he’s not an ally at all?

Danny groans inwardly, but turns and starts off in the direction of the storage room.

Might as well get an answer to this mystery.

* * *

On the opposite end of the school, Wes Weston squints down at his sandwich pensively. 

He’s alone as he always is-- nobody wants to hang around the guy that wouldn’t shut up about ghosts and monsters until ninth grade-- and so he doesn’t need to worry about anyone noticing that he understood the cryptid message issued over the PA system. He takes another bite of the sandwich, chewing slowly as the gears turn in his ever-paranoid head. 

_ Why would the spirit-student-whatever want to talk to me now? _ He thinks,  _ They should know by now that I want absolutely NOTHING to do with the paranormal. I thought writing ‘fuck off’ on the side of the shed was clear enough. _

In spite of his distaste and refusal to have anything to do with spirits, there’s a part of him that still pipes up in his head, still glitters with childish wonder. 

_ What if meeting the mystery student helps you follow your old dream to be a paranormal investigator? What if they take you on all those adventures you used to daydream about? _

_ What if you find out why you can see monsters, and what your purpose is? _

“Ah, fuck it.” Wes grumbles bad-naturedly before shoving his sandwich back into the ziploc bag he pulled it from. “I guess I can see what this idiot wants.”

He puts his lunch back in his locker, grabs an old plastic water bottle full of holy water, and sets off briskly for the storage room.

* * *

Sidney Poindexter has always taken pride in his ability to tell when something is amiss, even if all evidence shows otherwise. Whether it be a bully harassing a smaller student in the grungy shadows of the girls’ restroom, a teacher going out of their way to make a student’s life hell, or a staff member in the lounge by themselves starting to choke on a bite of food, Sidney’s always seemed to inherently sense when something’s wrong.

And he gets this feeling as soon as the distorted voice crackles over the PA system.

He stops where he is, furrowing his brow and adjusting his glasses as he does when he’s thinking hard about something. He knows that the voice over the PA isn’t Danny’s, it sounded like a completely different kid; and he knows it isn’t an actual student because he knows the voice of every student in the school, past and present, and this one sounds… off. Like that ‘Siri’ thing that some kids have on their phones, but rather than a woman, it sounds like a teenage boy. 

As that uneasy feeling starts to spread from Sidney’s core to the rest of his flickering silver-white limbs, he starts off in the direction of the offices. 

The rest of the students seem to be completely unbothered by the strange announcement, as most of the students Sidney passes are speculating on which student could’ve possibly pulled off such a prank announcement. Which is both comforting and disconcerting. Shouldn’t the students be concerned about the weird, garbled language spoken through every PA speaker in the school? He’s not sure. He just knows he needs to get to the bottom of the anxious feeling creeping along his skin like countless beetles, and to protect the school from any potential threats. 

He drifts easily through the wall into Principal Ishiyama’s office, which is devoid of human life. The only living thing here is the blue and white Betta fish swimming lazily around its bowl on the principal’s desk. Sidney’s frown deepens. 

As he drifts through another wall, he picks up on muffled voices coming from Walker’s temporary office. Disgust and hostility flickers through Sidney’s core, yet he draws near enough to make out the voices.

“ ...What language did you say that was?” Ishiyama remarks.

“It’s a… dead language, if you will. Its name has been lost to time and forgotten, but it was the language which Latin developed from.” Walker replies in a husky grumble.

“Fascinating!” the principal says. “Now, you said you’d deal with the… paranormal threats haunting the school?”

Walker grunts in affirmation. “Yes. I’ve placed a little trap which was set in motion by the announcement I made, and should all go well, you’ll not have to worry about any unnatural events occurring in your school again.”

A pause.

“What… do you plan to do when you catch these ‘spectres’?”

“Well,” Walker hums, and Sidney detects predatory hunger spark from the investigator’s aura. “While the information itself is classified, I can assure you they’ll be used for a greater purpose.”

Sidney recoils, his glassy white eyes flying wide in horror. 

_ Danny. He’s going to torture Danny. _

_ No. No, no, no, I need to save him! _

A chill passes through Sidney’s form, which clues him into the fact that his form is growing unstable, but he pays that no mind. He extends his perception as far as he can, picks up on Danny’s aura, and flies off in its direction as fast as he can.

He only hopes he can make it in time.

* * *

When Wes reaches the storage room, he wastes no time in wrenching it open and stomping into the musty little space with a scowl. He shuts the door behind him, then squints to let his eyes adjust to the dim light.

After a few moments, he makes eye contact with the student who’s been the bane of his existence for the past several weeks.

He stiffens.

“Danny Fenton?!” he hisses, and the other boy blinks in surprise.

“Wes Weston?? The crazy kid who wouldn’t stop ranting about--” Danny catches himself before murmuring, “Ohhhhh, okay. That makes a surprising amount of sense.”

Wes hasn’t paid much attention to the Fenton family’s youngest member since middle school, when his main passions were on the supernatural. Danny Fenton was the only student Wes actually  _ attempted  _ to befriend back then, and that was only because of his ghost-hunting family. 

Now that Wes is actually standing in front of Danny, however, he picks up on things he otherwise wouldn’t have noticed. Namely, the way the dim light makes his pupils flicker like an animal’s, the angry scar that leaves his left cheek darkened and uneven, and the dark circles below his eyes. In short, Danny looks like he’s been through hell and back.

“First off, I was  _ never _ crazy,” Wes snaps, “second, when the  _ hell _ did you end up with the same abilities I have? And third, why in God’s name did you use the PA system to bring me here when you could’ve just spray-painted the shed?”

Danny cocks an eyebrow. “I didn’t use the PA. I thought that was you.”

For a few heartbeats, the two students stare at each other in confusion. Soon enough though, the same sense of unease makes itself known in the space between Wes and Danny. Wes feels his scowl drop into something more akin to dawning horror, Danny’s expression mirrors Wes’ own, and without exchanging another word, the two of them whirl around and bolt for the door. 

Danny wrenches it open, and almost crashes directly into a towering skeleton of a man, unnerving green eyes burning spiteful holes into both him and Wes. He bares unnaturally-white teeth in a carnivorous grin before pulling a strange pistol from its holster and pressing it against Danny’s stomach. 

The gun barely makes a sound, but the damage it does leaves Wes nauseous with horror. 

Danny lets out a choked scream as a bolt of blinding green light shoots through him with ease and dissipates on the back wall. For a moment, the shorter boy staggers backwards with wide, shocked eyes, blood running from his mouth, nose, and the hole in his gut before he collapses. 

Wes is certain he’s dead. There’s  _ no fucking way _ even a half-spirit or whatever can survive something like that. There’s no way!

_ Fenton’s dead. Holy fuck, he’s  _ **DEAD.** _ I’m next, I’m going to die. _

The government agent smirks down at Danny’s limp form before cocking the gun again and pointing it at Wes. “It was only a matter of time before I caught you two nuisances.”

Wes can’t speak. 

He can’t move.

_ Move, legs, MOVE, DAMN YOU!! _

“I sense very little aura from you,” the man remarks, “but if you die, it’s no issue. One less supernatural entity, one less problem for the human race to deal with.”

Wes finally finds his voice, but barely makes a single syllable before he finds himself staring directly down the barrel of the agent’s pistol. 

_ I should’ve stayed home. _

There’s a soft ‘click’ as the trigger is pulled, and Wes’ vision explodes with green light before his entire world fades to black.

* * *

When Danny returns to groggy consciousness, he’s unsure of how much time has passed. 

The things he  _ is _ aware of are the pain radiating from his stomach, the pounding migraine that sends stars dancing across his vision, and the abrasive feeling of his hands secured behind his back in metal cuffs. He groans, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it before forcing his eyes open.

From what Danny can tell, he’s chained to a chair by his wrists and ankles, and has been moved to the dark, musty basement of the school. The boiler rumbles from everywhere around him at once like the rumbling of a colossal beast’s blood through its veins, echoing against the concrete floors and steel support beams that tower overhead. 

Danny tries extending his perception, but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t sense anything outside the room he’s in. 

He can’t pick up on Walker’s aura, but he does feel Wes’ aura pulsing weakly from his left and turns his head to look. It’s difficult to make out in the dim light filtering in from another room, but Danny can definitely see the outline of Wes secured in another chair. His head hangs down in front of him, his red hair obscuring his face. 

“Wes?” Danny says before his body is racked with hoarse coughs that fill his mouth with the coppery taste of blood.

When the fit passes, Danny sucks in a few desperate breaths and leans back in the chair with his eyes closed. “ _ Fuck.”  _

“Ah, you’re awake. Excellent.”

The voice comes at the same time Danny picks up on Walker’s oppressive, hostile aura. With a jolt of alarm, Danny sits upright once more and snaps his head in the direction of the threat with a vicious glare. Walker stands in the doorway to an adjacent room, his ominous figure outlined by the fluorescent light that floods in from the hallway. Danny squints against the light, but doesn’t take his eyes off of Walker.

The government agent chuckles in a smug sort of way before stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him. He flicks on the lights, which are so coated in dust and cobwebs that barely any light floods the room. 

“What do you want from us?” Danny snaps, “We haven’t done  _ anything _ to you!”

“You exist. That’s enough to warrant what I’m doing,” Walker replies as though it’s the simplest explanation in the world.

Deep in Danny’s Essence, he feels the spirit begin to stir from slumber. 

Sweat starts beading on his skin and rolling down his neck at the thought that he might lose control to the spirit, but he somehow manages to keep the fear off his face and hold Walker’s eerie stare. “I got caught in a freak accident that killed me and now I have to deal with all this shit! I didn’t  _ ask _ for this! And neither did Wes! From what I know, the guy was just born with it or whatever!”

“Begging won’t do you any good.” Walker snorts.

“I’m not  _ begging!  _ I’m fuckin’  _ ANGRY!” _ Danny shouts, now aware of his spirit half actively trying to take hold. 

Just as before, Danny’s shout causes him to be caught in another aggressive coughing fit that sends scarlet droplets splattering on the concrete. Walker narrows his eyes at the boy before him. “That’s not going to help your case either.” Danny watches as the agent lets his gaze drift over to Wes. “Oh. He survived.”

Danny blinks in confusion, then glances away from Walker towards where Wes sits cuffed to his own chair. The other boy’s body twitches with wakefulness for a few seconds before he takes a breath and lets out a painful groan. “ _Oh God…_ _I feel like I got hit by a semi…”_

“Wes--” Danny’s words cut off abruptly when Wes slowly raises his head to look around.

In the centre of his freckled forehead is a deep, circular laceration crusted with congealing blood, and dried red-brown streaks of it paint Wes’ face and hair. The boy himself doesn’t seem to notice the wound yet, but when he sees Danny, his green eyes widen in shock. 

“That’s nasty,” Is what he says.

Danny narrows his eyes. “What’s nasty? Walker? Because yeah, he’s pretty damn gross.”

“No-- I mean, you’re right, but…” Wes takes a breath, “...you’re looking kinda like the Japanese flag right now.”

At Wes’ words, Danny looks down at his aching stomach and yelps in shock and fear. Because as it turns out, the reason his abdomen is pulsing with white-hot pain is because there’s a bloody hole torn in his white t-shirt that reveals a deep, round wound akin to the one on Wes’ forehead. 

“I did that,” Walker sneers, catching the boys’ attention. “A past altercation with one of  _ your kind, _ ” he spits the word like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth, “left me with quite the impressive anti-spirit weapon.”

“It’s the gun.” Wes mutters, more to himself than anyone else.

Walker bares his teeth in another creepy grin. “Yes, it is. And I use it to enforce the rules governing your kind.”

“And what rules would those be?” Danny asks with a bored look on his face.

“The GiW code itself: All creatures dwelling on anything other than the First Plane are unpredictable and may pose a threat to the human race. Thus, they must be eliminated.”

For a time, neither Danny nor Wes say anything. Walker glares down his nose at his two captives in the silence, presumably waiting for one of them to speak so he can monologue more about his goals and what unspeakable horrors he’ll eventually unleash on them. Finally, Wes breaks the silence. 

“Dude, it’s 2020, not 1950. You’re aware of that, right?”

Walker’s smirk fades. “What?”

“I mean, maybe you’ve been living under a rock with your fellow roaches,” Wes says smoothly, “but it’s common practice to treat all other races with the same respect and dignity as you show the other corpses your age.”

A laugh bursts unexpectedly from Danny’s lips, which he tries to stifle with a cough that only leaves him hacking up more blood. Even so, he can barely suppress the laughter that bubbles up in his throat at Wes’ deadpan insults. Danny feels the old man’s aura flare with rage, but Wes’ own aura remains only mildly annoyed.

How the lanky athlete manages to give absolutely zero shits in such a situation as this is a question Danny desperately wants the answer to.

“ _ You’d better watch your mouth if you know what’s good for you--” _

“Bold of you to assume I fear death.”

Danny chokes on spit and blood as he tries to stop laughing again. 

_ “ _ All you teenagers these days say you’re not afraid of dying,” Walker snarls, stalking across the room to where a duffel bag rests on the dusty floor, “If you truly looked death itself in the eye, you wouldn’t be so keen to say those--”

Wes interrupts yet again with the same monotone voice. “If you kill me, I will face God and walk backwards into Hell.”

Danny doesn’t hear what Walker replies to  _ that _ comment with, having lost his battle with laughter and doubling over in a fit of hysterical cackling. Hell, he doesn’t even notice the blood dripping on the floor at this point; all he’s capable of thinking about is the fact that he seriously missed out on comedy gold by not befriending Wes Weston in middle school. 

Of course, the whole debacle doesn’t last long. 

Mid-laugh, Danny suddenly feels his entire body seize up in fiery pain and can’t help the cry of pain that escapes his lips with the taste of copper. The pain fades after a few seconds, leaving Danny to slump weakly forward, shuddering. 

“What…?” Danny mumbles, looking up through his sweaty fringe at Walker.

The investigator glares balefully down at Danny, holding something that looks vaguely like a cattle prod. “It’s called an Essence Distorter. It delivers a shock directly to your Essence, resulting in excruciating pain, seizures, internal bleeding, and potentially, mild amnesia.”

“Y’know,  _ I  _ was the one being a prick,” Wes says slowly, as though walking on eggshells. “You didn’t have to taze Fenton.”

Without warning, Walker spins on his heel and points the strange device in Wes’ direction. As soon as it flickers with pinkish light, Wes flinches with a hiss and a few droplets of blood run from his nose. When Walker lowers the weapon, Wes gasps and slumps back into the chair with a muttered curse.

“...Didn’t know I had an Essence. Good to know,” Wes slurs to himself in a self-deprecating tone that only serves to rile up Danny’s already-angry spirit half further.

Danny swallows hard, but his grip on the spirit is weakening. Whatever Walker’s weird device did, it’s messing with Danny’s control over his spirit half, and he feels his heart begin to thump against his ribs in panic. He’s hyperventilating, he knows it, and he can hear Walker addressing him angrily, but all Danny can bring himself to focus on is his pathetic control over the spirit.

_ No, no, no! _ Danny’s mind cries,  _ I don’t care if this is a hopeless situation, I won’t lose control, I won’t, I won’t, I  _ **WON’T--!**

Walker says  _ something,  _ but Danny still can’t focus on it. 

He can’t, or he’ll lose it.

Danny feels like he’s on the verge of letting go when a familiar aura explodes out of nowhere and bathes the room in a sense of protective rage that somehow pacifies the howling spirit clawing its way through Danny’s very Essence. It drifts back into a vague hum at the back of Danny’s head, and he raises his head again to look for the source of the new aura.

Floating in front of himself and Wes, blocking Walker from coming any closer, is the blinding silver glow of Sidney Poindexter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay my art style pulled a full 180 and went from semirealism to full cartoon, but I'm having more fun with this style than I ever did with the semirealism/my other style ;;; So I'm sorry (again) if the new style is unappealing but I'm hella happy with it jshvkdj
> 
> Also I went kinda nuts with the color palette on the last illustration ripppp
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr!](https://hitamory.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

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